The Endless Tale
by sarahannmarie123
Summary: The Blight has ended, but a new story has begun to unfold in Kirkwall. A powerful Dalish woman known as Serena appears before Hawke and her newly acquainted friends, her past and her reasons for being in Kirkwall unknown. The two strangers must work together, otherwise Kirkwall will fall. A heart throbbing adventure full of romance, tragedy, and constant sarcastic jokes.
1. Chapter 1: A Warrior in the Dark

**HAWKE**

"Are there any other options?"

Varric sighs. "None at the moment. Bartrand had an entrance lined up, but it was a bust. I'll keep looking, but if we don't find something, we'll have a fancy expedition with nowhere to go."

"Sounds like you've got it all planned out, Varric," I joke.

A smirk appears on his lips. "And that messere, is why I am here." He bows and I let out a chuckle. "All joking aside though, supposedly this Grey Warden came in with some other Ferelden refugees not long ago. A lowtown woman named Lirene has been helping the Fereldens. We talk to her, maybe we learn where he is. I'll keep after my contacts; see if I can drum up any other work. Until then, we'll focus on what I've already lined up. We've got a big job tomorrow for Choir Boy. It pays well too."

"Choir Boy?" I repeat with a raise of an eyebrow. "Is that his new nickname now?"

Varric shrugs. "The man's a saint. I can't find a single speck of dirt on him. We'll see how long that lasts. Until then, Choir Boy works just fine I think." I laugh again and Varric grins in response. After a moment, he pivots toward the door. "I think that's good enough for the night. Come, I'll walk you out," he says and leads us out into the hall. The overwhelming scent of musk and stale ale immediately fills my nostrils, sending waves of cringes down my spine. But compared to being stuck on the battlefield among a pile of rotting darkspawn corpses, this is nothing. It's one thing I know that Carver and I would agree on, if he was still alive.

The two of us make our way down the wooden steps of the Hanged Man. The floorboards squeak under our leather boots to the point where I actually wonder if we might fall through. But thankfully, we do not. At least not this time.

As we stroll through the bustling tavern, none of the bar patrons take notice of our arrival and continue downing their pints one after the other, as if in hope that it will bring about a better tomorrow. Varric spares not a single glance to the poor sods, and the two of us quickly take our exit. The streets are unnaturally cold and empty on this dreary night in lowtown, but it's not enough to keep the street safe. Blood thirsty eyes watch us from the shadows. Only when we make our way around the corner of the Hanged Man do the predators show themselves. Clad in their characteristic worn leather armor, the members of the Sharps Highwaymen confront us.

"Well, look at that," Varric grumbles. "Friends everywhere. Lovely."

Sticking close to each other, Varric pulls out Bianca and I draw my sword. As the leader of the group starts to close in, a slim figure suddenly drops from the sky and lands on the leader's back.

The man's head hits the ground hard and he passes out.

Varric and I lower our weapons.

A beautiful young woman with ivory skin and shoulder length chestnut colored hair stands on top of the leader. Her teal eyes are focused on the man beneath her like a hawk, and a large scythe gleams in the palm of one of her hands as if the blade is made from a portion of the moon itself. Customary Dalish leather armor drapes over her small hourglass frame and the faint tips of her elvish ears can be seen past her dark locks.

After a moment of silence, the elf looks up and steps off the man. She slowly turns around to face the gang of highwaymen and takes a deep breath. "That's far enough," she says, her voice smooth and entirely composed as if she didn't just jump off a building and take out the gang's leader in one fell swoop.

One of the gangs more burly members furrows his furry eyebrows and straightens his stance, anger clear in his scrunched up scowl. "Who in the Maker are you?" he shouts, his voice rough and gravely compared to the woman's.

"A stranger," she says and lifts her scythe to rest the length of it on her shoulder. "Let's keep it that way."

The man clenches his jaw and his face turns red. "Why you knife ear—" He steps forward, his sword raised and ready for combat. Varric and I swiftly lift our weapons, prepared to strike. But before we can, the woman moves. In an instant she manages to run in close, and with the dull end of her scythe, she jabs the man in the side and sends him skidding across the ground and into a pile of rotting boxes. Everyone becomes frozen still. My mind struggles to catch up. Before it fully can, the woman moves again. One after another she takes out the enemy line without so much as breaking a sweat or spilling a drop of blood. Her nimble movements are too fast for anyone to keep up.

When the last highwayman falls and she strikes him unconscious with her weapon, she stands among a pile of men in the darkness. The enemy was taken out in less than two minutes.

"Well, that takes care of that," she remarks casually.

Varric lowers Bianca and I look over at him. His mouth is hanging wide open. "Makers breath," he utters, and I nod my head in agreement.

The young woman glances over at us, her gaze soothing and not the typical expression of a potentially dangerous killer. "You there," she shouts at Varric and we both jump. "Could you pass me that rope?" she asks, and points out an abandoned rope on a crate behind the two of us. "I'm going to tie these fools up before they regain consciousness. The city guard can deal with them in the morning." Varric does as he's asked and walks over to pass the rope to the woman. She smiles and replies, "Ma serannas," and then pulls out a dagger from her pocket and starts cutting the rope up into medium-sized bits.

Varric awkwardly scratches his head and clears his throat. "That's… quite some skill you have. The swine didn't even know what hit them. Literally. How have I not heard of you around town? You new around here?"

"Yes and no. I stick to the shadows. Life here is easier that way."

Varric throws his head back and chuckles. "You got me there."

The woman stands up and looks over the two of us. "And you two must be the renown Varric and Hawke. I recognize you. Both of you have made quite a name for yourselves in this town." She focuses on Varric. "Your stories are supposed to be the best around. And you," her eyes shift to me. "You used to work for the Red Iron. Correct?"

"That's correct," I reply, but my voice sounds unusually quiet even to me.

The corners of her lips form a mesmerizing smile, one that would knock any straight men right off their feet. "Quite impressive. I couldn't work with Meeran for a day, let alone a year. You must have some willpower, my friend."

The woman goes back to dealing with the rope and starts tying the highwayman up. After the first two are tied together, I step forward and start to help. "I hate to sound redundant, but who are you exactly?"

"I suppose a name wouldn't hurt," she says. "The names Serena. I'm a Fereldan refugee just like you."

"Fereldan?" It's impossible for me to disguise the surprise in my voice. "How did you manage to slip past the gates?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she grins. "But the past is the past, so let's not dwell on it. Agreed?"

With reluctance I agree. Although her smile appeared welcoming and lovely, the extra chipper tone of her voice held deeper meaning. It was clearly a warning.

In silence, the two of us finish tying up the rest of the highwaymen. When we're done, she stands up and bows her head. "Well, my work here is done," she states. "I'll let the city guard know of their capture. It was a pleasure you two."

"Wait." I stop her before she can turn to leave. She stares at me and pauses. I glance over at Varric and the two of us exchange looks. He nods his head and I shift my gaze back onto her, my mind made up. "We could use a fighter like you," I assert.

Confusion and curiosity flickers in her eyes. Her lips form a straight line.

"We're organizing an expedition into the deep roads," Varric explains. "We're going to need as much man—or in this case, womanpower— as we can get. If you come with us, I'm positive it will be worth your while. Bianca can guarantee it." He points to his trusty crossbow and winks.

Serena grins. "Tempting," she responds, her voice sounding amused. "Unfortunately however, the Dalish aren't too fond of material possessions. Merely carrying around my pack and scythe are exhausting enough." She pauses to cross her arms and purse her lips. After a moment, she continues on. "But I'll tell you what, if you ever need my help, you can call on me and I'll hear you out. I won't promise anything, but the least I can do is that. Give me a few days time to think about this other offer of yours, and I may reconsider."

"Where could we find you?" I ask.

"The Alienage. During the day, I'm typically around the central square where the oak tree's located. But for the next few nights I'll be out of town. I have other business to attend to and I'm already running late as it is. So with that, I must be going." She bows her head one last time, then turns to walk away. "Dareth shiral," she waves to us. "Until we meet again."

Bethany is waiting by the door of Gamlen's place by the time I manage to make it home safely. Her arms are crossed and she's leaning against the stone wall, her expression set into a fixed frown. Only when she hears me approach does she perk up. The frown disappears and she lets out an audible sigh of relief. "There you are. What took you so long? I was starting to worry."

"It was nothing. Varric and I merely ran into a interesting woman, that's all," I respond and the two of us step inside.

"A woman? What was she like?" she asks.

I sit down at the kitchen table and Bethany sits across from me. The wooden chairs creak underneath us. "She was an elf, a Dalish elf. And she was strong. Stronger than a lot of the warriors I've seen. We offered her the chance to join us with the expedition."

Bethany raises an eyebrow. I can see the mix of intrigue and disbelief in her cautious chocolate-brown eyes. "And what did she say?"

"She said she'd think about it."

"Do you think she'll say yes?"

I shrug. "She didn't seem too interested. However, she may change her mind."

At least, I hope she would change her mind. We could really use a fighter like her. I could depend on her to be able to take care of Bethany and Varric if worse came to worse during the expedition. And besides, I want to see her fight one more time. The memory of the fight from earlier is still etched into my mind. I've never seen a woman, let alone a warrior, move so fast. It was both admirable and terrifying. She would be a great person to have on our side, both before and after our expedition, whatever her case may be.

Bethany clears her throat and I look up. She has a frustrated grimace on her face. "What about the side jobs we have planned? Are we still on track?" she asks.

I rub the back of my neck. "Yes, but we're still twenty sovereigns short. Varric's working on organizing more jobs. It'll probably be another month."

She let's out an exasperated groan. "I just wish this was all over and done with already. I'm tired of running all over town like this. My nerves won't be able to take much more of it."

Sensing her disappointment, I lean forward and grab her hand to try to comfort her. "Tomorrow we're scheduled to head to Sundermount to take care of some of Flint Company assassins in the Sebastian Vael case. That'll at least get us out-of-town for a few days."

"Good. I'm relieved to hear that," she answers. "But will we be fine to go there on our own? Just the three of us?"

I lift my hands in the air and raise my shoulders. "I don't see why not."

"I hope you're right. For both our sakes."


	2. Chapter 2: Nature's Warrior

_**Thanks to those who are reading. I promise the good stuff is coming soon. ;D I've got to build up the story a bit first. **_

_**If you like how it's going so far or have constructive criticism, please give a review. It really helps since although I'm not really new to writing, I'm new to writing fanfiction. So let me know what's going on in that head of yours. :)**_

_**Thanks and enjoy! A new chapter will be coming soon.**_

**HAWKE**

The smell of pine and sap is strong as Varric, Bethany and I make our way up the steep slope of Sundermount. Warm sunlight glints perfectly through the treetops and patterns everything on the ground, forming an odd but beautiful mosaic. All forms of wildlife can be heard around us, whether it's the sweet lullabies sung by the birds or the squirrels chattering near their homes in the earth. The sounds of our paced footsteps only serve as a reminder that we are only an intrusion in the wilderness and nothing more.

Our favorite dwarf is in the lead of our small group, Bianca proudly holstered on his back. His broad shoulders stand tall, at least figuratively speaking, as he struts up the hillside despite us having been walking for hours. Slightly weary from the entire day's walk and jealous of his relaxed composure, I can no longer keep quiet and voice my thoughts aloud. "Are you certain it's this way, Varric?" I ask. "There's been no sign of anyone let alone the assassins within the past few hours."

Varric chuckles but doesn't look back. "Hawke, when have I ever steered you wrong?" he responds as the three of us enter a rocky clearing with a few noticeable stone ruins. "The hideout should be right around this… corner," his voice lowers and he comes to an abrupt halt. I stop and look ahead, wondering what could've caused such a reaction.

Before us is a massacre. About twenty men lay before us in puddles of their own blood. Serena stands at the center of it all with her back slightly turned away from us, her scythe pointing down at the ground, and her blade dripping red in the sun. She immediately flinches and twirls to face the three of us, a sinister glare overtaking her expression. After scanning over the three of us, her creased eyebrows loosen up and her form relaxes. "Oh, it's you two," she sighs and shakes her head. "I did not expect to see you so soon. What's brought you to Sundermount?"

My eyes shift to the dead assassins on the ground, my words unable to escape my gaping mouth.

Her gaze narrows and I notice her hand clench tightly onto her oversized weapon. "Was it for these _shemlen_?" she snarls, her voice low and malicious.

I can only manage a nod.

Serena pauses and takes a deep breath, appearing to let my unspoken words settle in. "I see," she whispers. "I apologize, but they wandered too close to the clan and refused to leave. They were the lowlife sort. I assumed they wouldn't be missed."

"Did you… take out all of these men yourself?" I finally question.

Her emotions vanish from her stunning features, as if she's become a book with no written pages. An invisible wall seems to form between the four of us.

"Perhaps. But what does it matter? What's done is done," she says in a curt and blasé manner.

Varric scoffs and scratches at his stubble. "You say that as if it's nothing, but this—" he motions to all the corpses. "This was surely no easy scuffle."

Serena looks away and frowns. "You give these seth'lin too much credit."

Bethany abruptly gasps. Everyone looks back at her. Her eyes are wide and she has a hand over her mouth. "You're bleeding," she exclaims.

Varric and I shift our gaze, and exactly as Bethany claimed, a line of blood can be seen dripping down Serena's right side from underneath the upper part of her chestpiece.

Serena grasps at the hidden wound. "It's nothing," she insists.

"Nonsense!" Bethany snaps and takes several steps forward until she's directly in front of the woman. Without hesitation, Bethany lifts up some of the leather near the bloody area and a gaping wound is exposed. Blood swiftly trickles down her side and drips onto the ground. "Unless you get this treated immediately, you'll only continue to bleed out," she says.

Serena pulls away and covers the wound. "It is nothing. I am fine."

"No, you are not." Bethany retorts, her tone now harsh and frustrated. Spinning on her heel, she turns to me. Her gaze is steady with unyielding determination, a look I haven't seen from her since the day she insisted to join the Red Iron with me despite my original objections. However, under that determination lies something else—a question, an uncertain and risky question that could put our entire family at risk all over again. Understanding her silent wishes, I ponder the thought for a moment, and then gesture for her to continue with my permission. The corners of her lips curl up and she shifts back to Serena, a sense of purpose sparkling in her light brown eyes.

"Let me help. I-I can heal you."

The arches of Serena's eyebrows perk up. Her expression changes from shock to distrust, distrust to interest, then interest to thoughtful understanding. As soon as she reaches the latter, she rubs her hand across the bridge of her nose and exhales loudly. Biting her lip, she looks away and pulls up the edge of her armor to expose the wound.

Bethany beams and kneels down to the ground. Her hands hover slightly over the wound and quickly emit a bright blue light. Serena winces at first, but eases as soon as her wound starts to close up. When the wound is gone, Bethany pulls away and Serena tugs her armor back down.

"Ma serannas," Serena utters, her voice almost a whisper.

Bethany bows her head and smiles. "How does it feel? Better?" she asks.

"Yes," Serena answers.

Varric crosses his arms and smirks. "You're really something Twinkle Toes. How long were you planning to walk around with a wound like that?"

"As long as necessary. Believe it or not, I've had far worse."

"Oh, I believe it," I state. "But why would you face all those assassins on your own? That's asking for a death wish."

Serena shrugs and leverages her weight onto one foot. "I'm the only one the Dalish can depend on around here. When they call upon me and ask for help, I can't refuse. I owe them that much. Besides, a small group like this is usually nothing, but I've been distracted. I've had too much on my mind. And today, I paid the price."

A frown overtakes my expression. "I hope it has nothing to do with what we asked the other day."

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. "No, not at all," she assures us, and then her eyes become downcast. "There's simply a lot more going on than the three of you are aware of. You will know in time, however. That I am certain of." Serena paces a few steps then rubs the back of her neck. "As for today though," she says. "I am now in your debt. I will go with you into the deep roads as repayment for your help. That is, if you don't mind an elf amidst your companions."

I raise my hands and wave them back and forth. "No. By all means, welcome aboard."

Serena's mesmerizing smile returns to her lips. The loveliness is suddenly frightening knowing it can be beautiful one instant then feral and vicious the next. It's almost as if she's the embodiment of nature with her unrelenting magnificence and wrath. It makes me wonder if it's a common trait among the Dalish.

"As much as I appreciate hearing about your decision," Varric interrupts my thoughts. "I think it's about time we start heading back to Hightown. I'm sure Choir Boy is anxiously awaiting news on the assassins."

"Right," I agree. "Do you want to come with us? We can walk you back to the alienage."

"No need. I don't live in the alienage," she responds.

"I thought you said you did?"

"No, I said you could find me there. I wouldn't live in one of those rotting buildings for my life. It's uh… a Dalish thing," she grins.

"You sound like the dwarves who refuse to leave Orzammar," Varric grumbles.

She raises her shoulders, a glint of amusement flickering in her eyes . "So long as I don't look like them, I have no problem with that."

"Hey, not all dwarves look like they've just crawled out of a hole. I'm the prime example."

"If you say so, dwarf," she retorts sarcastically.

"Alright. Enough," I intervene and stand between the two of them. "Do not start the elven and dwarven rivalry match here. Not after we just agreed to work together."

"Ah, but where's the fun in that?" Serena responds. "It goes against all of our ancestors traditions."

"So does the notion of a dwarf being on the surface and a Dalish elf being away from her clan, but that doesn't appear to be stopping us," Varric chuckles. "All jokes aside though, I have a feeling this is about to be the start of a glorious adventure. Try not to disappoint. Hawke's involvement has left me with high expectations of sorts."

With a snigger, Serena mutters, "I'll try not to," then struts past the three of us and heads down the trail leading to the bottom of Sundermount, leaving the rest of our group to watch in wonder as she disappeared into the forest with her crimson scythe.


	3. Chapter 3: Meeting a Prince

_**Thanks again to those who are reading. I'm almost done building up some of the story. Things will start getting good soon, I promise. ;) **_

_**If you like how it's going so far or have constructive criticism, please leave a review. It really helps since although I'm not new to writing, I'm new to writing fanfiction. So let me know what's going on in that head of yours. :)**_

_**A new chapter will be coming soon. (As in probably later tonight or tomorrow morning. And it'll finally be from another person's perspective! :D I'm really excited about that, if you couldn't tell.) Enjoy!**_

**HAWKE**

Upon our return to Kirkwall, Hightown is bustling with its usual nightlife. Templars and the city guards roam the darkened streets, daring any apostates or thugs to disrupt the peace, and several nobles can be heard gossiping in the corners of the market, hoping that their voices are out of earshot reach.

The sole exception to this setting is the Chantry's exterior courtyard. Compared to the rest of Hightown, it's abandoned. Its solitary occupant is a petite, familiar elf who's leaning against the wall with her scythe near the Chantry stairs. She only looks up when she hears Varric, Bethany and I approach. With a smile, she glances toward us. "Well, it took you all long enough," she says. "I was wondering if you were ever going to show up. Any longer and I may have given up."

Varric puts his hands on his chest and smirks. "And disappoint you, Twinkle Toes? Never."

Serena laughs and grabs her scythe. The spotless curved blade glistens in the dim light, almost like a star in the night sky. She must've had enough time to clean it before we arrived. "How glad I am to hear that," she replies, a sparkle of amusement gleaming in her bright teal eyes. "But I hardly believe we all came here just to chat or to appease my hopeful expectations."

"What exactly are you doing here?" I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me. Then I realize how rude I might sound and put a hand up to stop her from responding before I can clarify. "Not that I mind seeing you," I insist. "It's just that we thought you'd already left."

Serena nods and paces a few steps. "I felt it was only right if I accompanied you to meet with this associate of yours since I interfered with your mission. This way if he asks any questions, I can offer an explanation."

"That's very thoughtful of you," I respond. "However, I would hate to take away any more of your precious time."

Serena scoffs. "Hawke, if you knew how much precious time I actually had, your head might fall off from shock. So please, allow me to do this much."

Hearing the resolve in her response, I merely say, "As you wish."

Without so much as a moment's hesitation, Serena then starts walking up the stairs. When she's a little less than halfway, she looks back at us. "Then let's finish this," she insists. "There's much to be done."

"You heard the lady," Varric comments then heads up the stairs after the elf.

Bethany and I take a moment then follow shortly afterward. Once we reach the top, Serena opens the grandiose wooden doors to the Chantry. Sebastian Vael can immediately be seen leaning against the wall halfway down the candlelit entrance walkway, his head hung low and his line of sight far off to a place where we cannot reach.

Serena waits for me to take the lead and disappears to the back of the group. With everyone in tow, I face Sebastian. "So, will anyone smite me if I tell you I killed the men who wronged your family?" I ask.

Sebastian perks up and stands up straight, his armor appearing glossy in the dim light. His eyes widen as he examines the four of us. "Excuse me, who are—" His sentence cuts off as realization sweeps over his face. "My post to the chanters board? Did her grace let that stay?" he questions no one in particular. "I thought for sure no one even read, but you say you've killed them?" He exhales loudly and his confused expression relaxes. "You have my eternal gratitude, serrah. It is comforting to think my parents might now rest easily in their graves."

"Yes well, I'm not the only one deserving of your thanks. I had some aid." I motion to the others behind me.

"Of course," Sebastian remarks and glances over the rest of our group. "You all have my thanks. Your help is much appreciated."

Varric chuckles and waves his hands in the air. "Oh no, I only played a small part in this story. The one you should be thanking here is Twinkle Toes." He points his thumb back at Serena. "She's the one who wiped out most of their men."

To my surprise, Serena merely bows her head and avoids eye contact. "It was nothing," she says.

"No, what you have done is worth more than you could know. I am forever in your debt."

Serena's eyebrows crease together and finally stare at the young prince. "Who are you exactly?" she asks, curiosity coating her melodic voice.

Sebastian stands tall and his eyes grow distant. "I am Sebastian Vael, prince of Starkhaven," he says, his voice now deep, powerful, and that of a ruler. Sadness then overcomes him and his shoulders slump a bit. "Her grace may prefer I introduce myself as a brother in the Chantry, but I could not stay after what happened to my family."

"Why didn't your families enemies hunt you down as well? It seems like the only logical choice," Serena remarks with no ill intentions.

"That's why I took the offensive. Thanks to you those Flint Company assassins are no longer a danger," he explains. "I am the last of my line. Unless I survive, my family will have no justice."

"Surely you have a guess as to who's sent these mercenaries?" I ask.

Sebastian shakes his head. "My family has ruled Starkhaven for six generations. We have enemies, but none who would identify themselves openly. A distant cousin of mine is claiming rulership now, but he's…. a bit simple. He can be no more than a pawn in this plot. My parents were always prudent in how they handled their nobles. They did not allow rivalries and resentments to flourish. The attack must've come from outside. Kirkwall is our largest trading partner. I came back here to find support for my claim and perhaps for a clue as to who is behind this foul deed."

Serena sighs and rests the blunt end of her scythe on the Chantry floor. "Well, your parents probably don't care much at this point, but I hope you sleep a bit easier at least," she says.

Sebastian smiles. "Yes, I hope I will. Thank you." He pauses to pull a coin purse out of his armor. He passes it to me and nods. "Consider this an advance. When I have secured my lands again, you will be paid royally. But for now if you excuse me, I must meet with the viscount and petition him for aid to a fellow city."

With that, Sebastian takes his leave from the Chantry, leaving the four of us alone in the deserted walkway with the golden statue of the Maker watching over us and our uncertain destiny.


	4. Chapter 4: Frustration and Memories Past

**Sorry for the delay. I forgot I had tests today (much to my dismay). Chapter 5 should be posted within the next few days.**

**Please leave a comment or review if you have the time. Let me know what's on your mind. ;) I won't know how you guys feel about the story otherwise. Thanks for reading! Enjoy!**

**SERENA**

Frustration and impatience are beginning to overcome me like a horde of forgotten darkspawn launching an attack on the abandoned ruins of Ostagar. Without real notice, days have turned into weeks and weeks into months, yet here I am still stuck in the rotting alienage of Kirkwall. I have nowhere else to go, no place to call home. My only space in this chaotic city is the vhenadahl, the tree of the people, but even that offers me no comfort or privacy.

To live with the Dalish once again continues to only be a childish fantasy, a personal desire that will never be satiated, a faint glimmer of light on a darkened horizon.

But perhaps that is for the best.

I do not deserve such happiness.

Why Hawke would insist on involving himself with a dangerous stranger despite my prior warnings is beyond me. Yet even so, I cannot deny his company. I know that it's wrong, that it's dangerous, and that I have no right to surround myself with anybody after everything that has happened, but the temptation is overwhelming. Simply being near his warmth, his touch, his breath is enough to satisfy the ravenous beast raging inside of me.

But for how long must I endure this pleasurable form of torture?

Will it be for another year? Two?

No. I should escape Kirkwall before it's too late, before I make a grave and irreversible mistake and become attached. The past must not be forgotten. But my promise of aid to him binds me to this wretched city like a chain. And until I fulfill my pledge, even the Dread Wolf cannot change the fact that I'm nothing more than a prisoner stuck in an iron cage.

"Blasted Creators…" I grumble and lean my head back against the trunk of the vhenadahl, the prospect utterly exasperating me. Clenching tightly onto my scythe, I glance down at the ground below me, hoping to find a sight to amuse and distract me. But alas, instead of a scrawny elf initiating a brawl or a woman arguing with an scorned lover, the very cause of my worry descends the steps to the alienage and struts toward me. The handsome shem has plastered on his characteristic goofy grin and his brown hair is ruffled in all directions as he walks past the few elves occupying the main square, completely oblivious to the anxious looks they give him.

"Hawke, what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" I ask unenthusiastically.

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity shining in his dark brown eyes. "I think I'd like to know why you are up in that tree first. Isn't it supposed to be holy?"

"The vhenadahl? No. It's merely a symbol of the Dales ancient homeland, Arlathan. No one here appears to know the true significance, or if they do they do not dare show it." I pause and look around; catching a few elves staring quietly from a distance. We meet eye contact, and then they quickly look away and hurry about their business. "As for why I am up here, this is where I live. I refuse to rest my head elsewhere."

"But isn't it a tad… uncomfortable? You could always come live with us and at least have a roof over your head. Gamlen owes us that much."

The corners of my lips curl up and chuckle builds inside my chest. "My, how bold you are, serrah. To invite a young woman into your home after hardly knowing her for two full weeks, you must be quite the charmer, lethallin."

With a smirk, I glance down at Hawke. When my words register in his head, he starts to fidget and his cheeks flush a light red. "That's not—I meant…" he rubs at his forehead and takes a deep breath. "Let me clarify, all I meant was… was…" He bites his lip and his line of sight wanders off.

Laughter erupts from my mouth like an exploding volcano. Hot tears blur my vision as I catch only a glimpse of Hawke watching me in flustered confusion, his face now as red as burning charcoal. "It is a joke, my friend. Relax. I know what you meant," I insist and suppress the rest of my giggles. Feeling satisfied, I let out a loud sigh. "In all seriousness however, I appreciate the offer but living in a building made of cold stone sounds far more uncomfortable, and I doubt Gamlen would welcome it. I will continue to claim my space here. The outside world is where I belong."

Hawke crosses his arms and his cherry lips part to reveal his milk-white teeth. "The reason why you are so bound to the outdoors is because you are Dalish correct? What part of Fereldan do you hail from, if I might ask?"

I scowl at him. "Oh, curious are you?" I respond.

In one deft movement, I hop off of the vhenadahl and land before the tall man in front of me, my protective barriers now all the way up. I lean in close until our faces are only an inch or so apart. Hawke immediately blushes, but he does not avert his gaze. As his anxiety peaks and he starts to squirm, I snicker and whisper in his ear with my best sultry voice, "Such mysteries I'll leave up to your wild imagination."


	5. Chapter 5: Spiraling Questions

**Well, here's the next chapter. A bit short, but the next one is almost done! It should be up by tomorrow. Thank you to all of those who are reading! Feel free to leave a review, your comments, etc. Its fun to get your responses. :) **

**HAWKE**

The Hanged Man is lively tonight. Drinks are being served all around. It's as if all the bloody sods of lowtown have gathered to celebrate the return of the Maker. Varric's booming voice echoes throughout the busy tavern, off on one of his tangents about a time when he and his brother were smaller. "And I shit you not, the poor bastard fell face first into a pile of rotting meat," he says, and slams his mug on the bar in front of us, spilling a few drops onto the wooden surface. "The neighbor's mabari tried to chase him everyday for about a week. He almost had him once, too." The bartender laughs and I notice a few other patrons throughout the tavern chuckle.

"That's great, Varric," I respond nonchalantly and take another cringing sip of my flat ale. I would've liked to be more enthusiastic, but the effects of the alcohol were disorienting me. Maker, I could barely stop the room from spinning let alone focus on a single conversation and come up with a decent response.

He frowns and inclines his head toward me. "What's bothering you, Hawke? You're never this quiet even when you're drunk. What's on your mind?"

I clench onto my mug, the handle feeling as if it might break in my hand. Andraste's ass, am I that much of an open book? To the point where even Varric could sense my frustration? And here I thought I was doing a damn good job at hiding it.

"It's nothing," I mutter.

Varric raises an eyebrow at me. His golden eyes are full of suspicion.

Pursing my lips, I look down at my ale. Words attempt to form, but my thoughts are jumbled and incoherent.

Varric shifts slightly in his chair, waiting quietly. Sensing his growing impatience, I let go of my mug and swivel toward him. "Why do you think Serena won't confide in us about anything? All she's told us so far is that she's a Fereldan and a Dalish. Nothing more. Is it wrong for me to be frustrated? Or is requesting just a bit more information unreasonable considering our situation?"

The humorous dwarf looks down at the bar, a smirk forming at the corners of his lips. "Sounds to me as if you've developed a bit of a crush."

"What? Maker no!" I snap and shake my head. The nerves all over my body tingle restlessly and a heat wave sweeps through me. Unable to look Varric in the eye, I rub at the back of my neck and focus on the bar. "Do not get me wrong. She's a beautiful woman. I cannot deny that I have… enjoyed the view," I explain. "But is there anything more? No. No, I do not believe so."

Varric wiggles his eyebrows at me. "You don't sound too certain, Hawke."

With a deep frown, I glare at him.

He rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair. "Fine, fine. I can't tell you how you feel. But for future reference, you might want to make an effort to remember your words before you ogle her again. I imagine pissing her off would be an… _unhealthy _life choice."

My jaw drops. "I do not ogle!" I shout and slam my mug on the counter.

"Maker, that's a lie if I've ever heard one," a woman's voice interrupts.

Varric and I turn around to see Bethany sauntering toward us. Her short black hair falls gracefully down her sides in loose curls like small unraveled tornados.

"Sunshine, welcome!" Varric greets her with a wide grin.

Bethany stops in front of us and nods her head. "Varric," she acknowledges him then faces me. "I hate to interrupt your _charming_ conversation, but Mother's waiting for you at home. You promised to help her groom Titan. You might want to consider returning home before she asks Aveline to search for us."

"Blasted mutt," I grumble and lick my lips. "Very well," I respond after a deep breath and stand up. The ground feels as if it wobbles underneath me. I eye Varric. "We'll finish our conversation later, but I do not ogle!"

He snickers and picks up his mug. "Goodnight, Hawke," he says, and then Bethany and I take our exit.


	6. Chapter 6: Bait and Switch

_**Dear Maker, this took a lot longer than I expected. I'm still not quite content with it, but it will do. I want to get to the good stuff! X/ But we're almost there. Enjoy this rather long chapter (this is probably going to be the longest one. I say that with my fingers crossed). The next submission will depend on how fast I can write it, but knowing me it will probably be ready in a couple days. Please leave a review, your comments, etc! Thanks for reading. Enjoy! :) **_

**SERENA**

It's midday when I spy Hawke, Bethany and Varric descending the steps leading to the alienage. Flat-ears watch them from all corners of the square, while I merely glance at them once then continue cleaning the blade of my scythe, my back placed firmly against the trunk of the vhenadahl and one of my legs dangling from the branch I'm sitting on. When they come to a halt a few feet away, Hawke smiles and puts his hands on his hips. "Serena," he calls up to me. "Mind coming down for a minute? I'd like to speak with you."

"Hawke, we both know that whenever you wish to talk to me, it's never just for a minute." I raise my eyebrows at him.

He shifts in his spot and crosses his arms. His smile doesn't leave his expression. "Alright, alright. All I can promise is that it won't take more than ten minutes. I just need to chat with you, and then you can choose to go on your merry way. I promise."

"I will hold you to that promise, lethallin," I respond and hop out of the tree, landing swiftly in front of him. Grasping onto my scythe, I plant the dull end on the ground and stare at Hawke. Amusement sparkles within the dark abyss of his eyes, making me wonder what could have possibly put him into such a good mood. He is always cheerful, but today it's to the point where it makes me nervous.

"So, we have accepted a job," he starts. "Huzzah and what not. But before we pursue it, I want to investigate a bit further, and you might have the answers that I'm searching for."

The notion intrigues me; however, I do not immediately snatch the dangling bait like an inexperienced mabari pup. After all, it could be another attempt to figure out more about my past. It wouldn't be for the first time this week.

"Go on," I insist but give him a cold stare as a warning.

His smile falters and he scratches his head. "Uh.. yes. You see, there are supposedly some smugglers in the alienage."

My eyes widen and I put a hand to my chest, the inner actor getting the best of me. "Smugglers in lowtown? No. What a surprise."

Hawke rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes. Poke fun. But listen, please," he begs. Frowning, I bite my tongue and wait for him to continue. After waiting for a moment, he carries on. "Their hideout is supposedly in the hovel over there," he motions to a small rundown building in the corner of the alienage square. Rotting wooden crates are placed in front of it. There, they serve as a hub for the spiders of lowtown-the filthy pests. "Since you are almost always out here, I was wondering if you have seen anyone enter or exit that building within the past few days?"

I stare at the shabby structure. My thoughts race, trying to pick apart bits of time that would otherwise be forgotten. "No, no one comes to mind. What exactly are you retrieving from these smugglers?"

"According to our contact, Lyrium. For the templars."

I scoff and shake my head. "Of course. I should have known. If it's not mages or darkspawn, it's the chantry. No wonder I've yet to get bored in this life."

Varric chuckles and the two of us exchange smirks.

When the humor fades, I let out a deep breath and cross my arms, allowing myself to return to the task at hand. "Who is this contact?" I ask.

"The man's name is Anso," Varric responds. "He's a dwarf that works in the Lowtown Bazaar. Keeps saying he thinks he's going to fall up into the sky. Sound familiar, Twinkle Toes?"

The man's name swirls around inside my head along with images of the bazaar. A few dwarves enter my line of vision, then vanish when the memory passes. "Perhaps," I utter. "Did this Anso give you any more information, or are we only working with what we have?"

"Other than saying if we have to kill the sods then it can't be avoided, no. He strongly believes that they'll be _reasonable _though," Hawke laughs, enjoying the naïve sentiment.

"Ah, optimism. You are a cruel, cruel mistress," I whisper. I can still remember when I use to fall prey to optimism myself, back in my time in Fereldan. Reality has a way of changing that though. "Any plans for when you intend to strike?"

"Tonight," Hawke replies.

"Ah, and here I thought I might have a peaceful night," I say and rub the back of my neck. Everyone grins and Bethany giggles quietly. "Very well. Since it is in my area and it also piques my interest, I will aid you with this mission. However," I pause and point at Hawke. "If any of them touches the Vehenadalh, I get to kill them. No questions asked. I will not have them desecrate the one place of true value to the Dales in this city. Understood?"

He nods. "Understood. We meet here at nightfall then."

"Nightfall it is. May the Creators guide our path. It seems we're going to need it."

**SERENA**

One after one they fell and then… nothing. Not a copper, treasure, anything. Our so-called lead has turned out to be a dead-end. All of that effort, all of that time—wasted. It makes my vision go redder than the floor stained with the thugs ruby blood.

"I guess we have no choice but to go back to Anso and tell him," Hawke says and moves toward the door, strutting past the warm corpses of the fallen.

The snath of my scythe threatens to crack between my fingers as he passes by.

Varric grabs my shoulder, calming the rage inside of me. "Come on, Twinkle Toes. Let's get out of here," he says and inclines his head to the door.

I only nod and head for the door.

Hawke gives me the once over before he opens the door and steps out into the darkness of the alienage, the other two in tow. But our group quickly comes to a halt.

A pack of armored men circle around us like a silver fortress. Only an armored woman with short brown hair and three men in silk robes have their faces revealed, setting them apart from the rest of the identical crowd.

"That's not the elf," the woman raises her voice. "Who is that?" she asks.

"It doesn't matter," one of the armored men beside her answers then draws his sword. "We were told to kill whoever enters the house."

The woman pauses and glares at us, her brown eyes attempting to pierce through us like an unrelenting Dalish arrow.

But it doesn't work.

The corners of my lips curl up and adrenaline rushes through me. A hearty laugh builds in my chest and my nerves tingle with rejoicement. "Really? You kill us? We shall see about that."

Without another word, I dash forward and slash my scythe at the midsection of the front line of the armored men. The sound of metal being cut open and the men gasping like gut fish rings in my ears and sends pleasant tremors down my spine, demanding me for more.

I happily oblige.

Blood flies everywhere like sudden rain. The corpses collapse and pile on the ground quickly. Hawke and company hardly have the chance to move before I've already decimated thirteen men—half in one swoop, the other in two more. The laugh I'd restrained escapes my throat. Delight tingles me to my bones.

And then I spy it.

Through the scattered remains of the crowd, there's a mage—casting loudly in Tevinter.

My chest constricts. It becomes hard to breathe. The tension in my muscles wrap around me like a woven cocoon. Images of the Eluvian and the ruins flash through my head.

My scythe groans in the palm of my hand. Furious, I stomp toward the robed mage. Two men attempt strike at me from the sides on my way.

I don't spare them a glance.

I cut through them like a whirlwind and continue on my chosen path.

The mage's dark eyes widen, his hands desperately moving about as he struggles to cast a blue shield around himself. I stop a few feet away and glare at the bald man. Wrinkles crease together on his forehead forming a unique design.

"Ma halem[1]," I hiss, and then my blade strikes through the barrier and lops off his head. The barrier vanishes, and his body collapses before me, his head rolling off to the side. I watch the blood flow from his corpse, then turn to look for the others. Hawke just struck down the last of the men with his sword. The ground's now a beautiful dark red.

With paced footsteps, I approach the others. Concern is etched on their faces. But they dare not ask questions. Instead, the four of us quietly scan the corpses. "It must've been a trap," Hawke breaks the silence.

"Let's go alert Anso. He would like to know," I suggest and the others follow me to the steps leading up to lowtown.

When we're about to ascend the steps, a scruffy man with short brown hair, round eyes and a stubby nose steps around the corner of the stairway. He's adorned in steel armor, similar to the men's we just massacred. His brow is scrunched together to the extent that a profound set of wrinkles covers his forehead.

The four of us halt, and the man stops before us. His dark eyes are fierce and threatening, daring to take opposition. "I don't know who you are friend, but you made a serious mistake coming here," he growls and stands up straight. We exchange glares then he bites his lip. "Lieutenant, I want everyone in the clearing. Now!" he shouts, his voice echoing off the alienage walls.

An armored man hobbles around the corner, blood pouring from a hole his chest and decorating the floor. "Captain," he gurgles and the man in front of us looks back. The lieutenant collapses and an elf with snow-white hair dressed in black leather chausses, steel gauntlets and a chest plate steps into view. A large sword is strapped to his back and black spikes rest on the top of his gauntlets and his shoulders. White markings trail down his chin, neck and arms in unique designs.

"Your men are dead. And your trap has failed," the elf snarls in a husky, sinister voice. Without a look of acknowledgment, he walks past the captain. "I suggest running back to your master while you can."

The elf stops in front of the captain, his back facing the man and his emerald eyes on us. The captain frowns and steps toward him, grabbing a firm hold of his shoulder. "You're going nowhere, _slave_."

The elf glares back at him, his expression fierce and feral. His white markings flare a brilliant blue, and then he turns around, grabs the captain's arm, lifts his arm in the air, and strikes his hand through the captain's chest. The man gasps and keels over, blood pouring from his chest cavity.

"I am **not** a slave," the elf sneers and veers toward us. The lanky man stands tall and holds his ground. His markings slowly fade. When he has returned to 'normal' his gaze becomes softer. "I... apologize," he says, his voice less harsh and sounding a bit refined and diplomatic. He paces a few steps. "When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters I had no idea they'd be so… numerous."

"I take it these men were looking for you?" Hawke asks.

"Correct." He turns around and studies the four of us. Whether or not he's impressed, he doesn't show it. "My name is Fenris. These men were Imperium bounty hunters, seeking to recover a magister's lost property-namely myself. They were trying to lure me into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone." He shrugs. "Thankfully," he motions to us. "Anso chose wisely."

"So, everything Anso said was a lie then?"

"Not everything, "Fenris states. "Your employer was simply not who you believed."

Hawke shifts his weight and crosses his arms. "That seems like a lot of effort to find one slave," he says.

Fenris' eyes grow dark, almost darker than they were before when he plunged his hand into the captain's chest. "It is."

"Does this have something to do with those markings?"

_Creators, Hawke. Do you really have to ask?_

The elf nods. "Yes." He lifts his arms and looks them over. "I imagine I must look strange to you. I did not receive these markings by choice. Even so, they have served me well. Without them I would still be a slave."

"If you couldn't fight them, why not just run?" Bethany questions, her voice curious and sincere. The concept must hit her far too close to home, as it must for any malificar who is constantly on the run.

Fenris pauses and stares down at the ground, contemplating his response. The way his brows crease together make me wonder if perhaps he has the same question himself. "There comes a time when you must stop running," he says. "—when you turn and face the tiger. Perhaps the deception was unnecessary. If so, I am sorry. I've become too accustomed to hiding." He pauses and an intrigued but hesitant sparkle glimmers in his clear green eyes. It makes him seem no more threatening than a puppy. "If I may ask, what was in the chest?" he asks. "The one they kept in the house."

"It was empty," I reply, deciding to step into this new part of the conversation.

His eyebrows droop in disappointment. "I suppose it was too much to hope for. Even so... I had to know."

"You were expecting something else?"

"I was, but I shouldn't have. It was bait, nothing more."

Fenris abruptly kneels down and searches the captain's garments. He searches pocket after pocket. When he finds a piece of folded parchment in one of them, he stands up and looks over it. A menacing scowl appears on his face. "It's as I thought. My former master accompanied them to the city," he says with malice and crumples the note. His gaze darts to us. "I know you have questions, but I must confront him before he flees. I will need your help."

Hawke scratches at his beard, a nervous habit I've witnessed him do many a time. "It sounds like you intend to do more than just talk," he replies.

Fenris clenches his jaw and glares down at the ground, his gaze far off where we cannot reach, perhaps recalling old and painful memories. "Danarius wants to strip the flesh from my bones. To send so many hunters that I've lost count. And before that, he kept me on a leash like a Qunari mage-a personal pet to mock Qunari custom." He raises his hand as he speaks. "So yes, I intend to do more than just _talk._"

"That's all well and good, but let me make sure that I have this straight," Hawke says. "You lured me into a trap and _now_ you want my help?"

The elf shrugs. "If Anso had told you to divert an ambush of Tevinter bounty hunters, would you have done it?"

"Yes," I respond without a second thought.

Everyone shifts their gaze on me. Thankfully, the do not question it and look away. "I see your point," Hawke concurs. "But you could've asked."

Fenris' eyes become downcast. "Had I known of you earlier, I might've asked you personally. But I only had Anso to rely on I fear. I'm not lying to you now. Please, help me do this."

"I say we accept," I insist and step beside Hawke, my eyes fixed directly at him. "I will help out regardless. However, you should consider your options wisely, Hawke. This job _will_ be in the hightown district."

Hawke purses his lips, considering that factor. He knew I was right, that he had to be extra cautious near the higher-ups if he and his family ever wanted their estate back. And of course Bethany mustn't be caught using magic—not so close to the chantry. He had to decide if he believed it was worth the risk.

After a long, agonizing silence, he sighs. "Looks like it's going to be a long night."

* * *

[1] Dalish for 'You are finished.'


	7. Chapter 7: Unexpected

_**Well, this chapter took longer than expected. But here it is! Enjoy!**_

_**Please leave your comments, suggestions, etc. if you have the time. Let me know what's on your mind. :) **_

_**Happy Reading!**_

**FENRIS**

"Gone," I mumble, staring down at the filthy floor. "I'd hoped…" The words cut off. "Ugh, no. It doesn't matter any longer. I assume Danarius left valuables behind. Take them if you wish. I….need some air." My head low, I stalk past the group of strangers and make my way outside, slamming the door shut behind me. The cold night air nips at my branded skin, reminding me that I am still alive—that Danarius is still alive and probably laughing somewhere nearby.

I slam my fist against the closest wall of Danarius' abandoned mansion. _Venhedis!_ If only we were sooner, he would be dead now, his heart torn from his rotten chest. Instead, he's free to wander, to use his powers to abuse others. And now there's more mages to worry about.

Bethany—that's what the human warrior called her—she is a mage as well. And although she attempted to be discreet about it, I saw her casting spells. The irony that I actually requested her help must've been a joke initiated by the Maker himself.

Digging my fingers roughly through my hair, I lean against the wall and close my eyes, flashbacks of the battle crossing my mind.

Despite the unexpected mage being thrown into the mix, Anso's hirelings exceeded my expectations—the young elf specifically. I assumed she was overconfident, that she would serve as one of the weaker links, but she has proven herself one of the strongest besides the warrior and myself. All of her movements were fluid, thought out, and grounded. Not once did I see her pause like the others. This is difficult to accomplish even for the most experienced warriors. Moreover, the appearance of demons did not deter her. Instead, she was the first to rush into battle and enjoyed it. If all Dalish are like this then the humans have underestimated them. I would've sought out their help long ago had I known. If I had then perhaps…

Images of the massacre in Sehron flicker through my head.

I open my eyes and put my hand on my forehead.

No, I mustn't think of that. Nothing can change the past, there's no point in thinking of what could have been done now. Instead, I should focus on a way to prevent such dreadful acts in the future, and the first step is taking out Danarius.

As I consider this, the four hirelings step out of the mansion, the blasted mage in tow. "It never ends," I utter, without looking at the group. "I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it haunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and my soul. And now I find myself in the company of even more mages." I glare at the human woman.

Her lips form a thin line and she scowls. "You can speak to me directly," she says.

I take a few steps toward the group, but keep a few feet of distance to be safe. "I saw you casting spells inside. I should have realized sooner what you really were," I snarl, and then fixate my gaze on the human mercenary. "You harbor a viper in your midst. It will turn on you and strike when you least expect. That is in its nature."

"My sister is stronger than you think," he replies with a frown, his voice flat.

The mage grins. "You tell him, brother," she says.

"I'm not blind," I insist. "I know magic has its uses, that there are undoubtedly mages with good intentions. But even the best intentioned mage could fall prey to temptation. And then their power is a curse to inflict upon others."

The woman rolls her eyes. "No one's stopping you from moving on you know," she retorts.

I glance around the group. All of them are frowning, their eyes cold and dark. Understanding I may have crossed the line of forgiveness, I take a step back and avert my gaze. "I imagine I appear ungrateful. If so, I apologize for nothing could be further from the truth."

"Good, because as an old friend once told me, the survival rate of ingrates is remarkably low, or at least so I hear," the elf says with an ominous smirk.

Her threat is not lost on me.

"I did not find Danarius, but I still owe you a debt," I attempt to change the subject. "Here is all the coin I have as Anso promised. Should you find yourself in need of assistance, I would gladly render it." I pass Hawke the bag of coins. It's all I have managed to palm off the unsuspecting folk I have run into over the past month.

Hawke tucks the bag into his armor then clears his throat. "I'm planning an expedition I might need your help with. But are you going to have a problem with my companions?" he asks.

"I will watch them carefully if we travel together. I could promise no more," I assert, sparing a single glance at the mage. "Should you ever have need of me, I will be here. If Danarius wishes his mansion back, he is free to return and claim it. Beyond that, I am at your disposal."

A wide grin spreads across his face. "Good. Glad we have an accord."

"Now while all of this is well and dandy," the dwarf chimes in. "How about we move this party elsewhere? Like somewhere with drinks? The Hanged Man for example."

"I could care for some drinks," Bethany replies.

"Would you like to accompany us, Fenris?" Hawke questions.

Bethany glares at me. Her cold eyes remind me of the bitch, Hadriana.

"No, I believe I will stay here. See if there are any clues Danarius may have left."

"That can wait till sunrise," the elf declares and crosses her thin arms. "Come. It's been a long night. Don't make us drag you there. Drinks are on me."

"My, how generous of you Twinkle Toes. I'm touched," the dwarf responds.

She shrugs and laughs. "I'm a giver," she says, and then her gaze shifts to me. It's penetrating, demanding, and unyielding—a dangerous teal abyss like a roaring sea. Any mortal would be a fool to risk angering this walking typhoon.

"It appears I have no choice," I reply, although I'm not thrilled by the idea.

She smiles. Joy emits from her like the sun's rays—far different compared to the malicious smile I saw from her in the midst of battle. "Good. Then let us go before someone walks out and we draw more attention to ourselves."

The Hanged Man—a bar that reeks of sweat, desperation, and vomit. Its sole redeeming quality is that the alcohol is cheap, although revolting.

Hawke, Varric, and the mage are gathered around the lit fireplace, conversing loudly with one another while Serena and I sit quietly at a table closer to the bar. She's slowly milking her drink, her eyes directly on me, a question clear in her bright eyes.

"You said Danarius is a magister, but little else," she starts. "Since we will be working together, please tell me a bit more about yourself."

I lean back in my chair and stare down at the table, memories of my time with Danarius briefly coming back. "In Tevinter, the magisters hold all the power—over the chantry, over the imperial court, over life itself. It is nothing for one to own a slave. Danarius has many. But none he valued so much as me."

"Then how did you get away?"

"Is it not enough that I did?" I question, but I can tell by the demanding look in her eyes that my explanation cannot end there. "I carved my path to freedom in blood. I left that life behind. Yet his bounty hunters follow me no matter where I go. I will run no longer."

She purses her lips and gulps down another part of her ale. How she does it so easily is a feat in itself. I have only dared to take two sips—that alone is miraculous enough. "I assume your old master is so persistent over one slave for a reason." Her gaze fixates on my arms. "Does it have to do with your special 'abilities' and the markings on your skin?"

"Yes. They are lyrium, burned into my flesh to provide the power that Danarius required of his pet. And now he wishes his precious investment returned, even if he must rip it from my corpse."

She smirks, her eyes sparkling like an untarnished gem. "Seems like a waste of a perfectly handsome elf," she says and flashes me a dangerous, flirtatious smile.

Nervous laughter escapes my lips. I quickly clear my throat and avert my eyes, the compliment appreciated but unexpected. "The truth is I know nothing of the ritual that placed these markings on me," I explain, hoping to recover from my unanticipated reaction earlier. "It was Danarius' choice. One he now regrets. But… enough about me," I insist and bend forward in my chair. "Tell me about you. You are a Dalish, correct?"

Her eyes lose their sparkle, but her lips curl up into a smile. "Yes. Heard of us have you?"

I shrug. "Everyone has, but the stories hardly do you credit."

"Oh, how so?"

"It matters not. You have proven otherwise."

"Well, I am a bit of an exception," she replies, her eyes cast down at the table, a hint of sadness or regret coating her voice.

Curiosity fills me to the brim. "What has taken you from your clan and brought you to Kirkwall?" I ask.

She lifts her mug to her lips, her gaze now far away. "What indeed."

Before I can ask her to elaborate, Hawke's booming voice echoes throughout the tavern. "Serena," he calls from across the room. The Dalish and I look up. He walks over and leans on the table, his dark eyes fixated on the woman like a hungry wolf cornering its adamant prey. "Last man… or woman… standing. What do you say?" He motions to the bar.

Serena gives him a mischievous grin. "Ah, challenging me are you? Are you certain you wish to do this? I imagine it will be quite embarrassing—and expensive— if you lose, lethallin."

Hawke raises an eyebrow and pats her on the shoulder, a sense of playfulness on his expression. "Let's see if your money is where your mouth is," he responds.

Serena snickers and places her mug down. After a moment, she stands up. "Do not regret this, lethallin. You will not be getting your money back."

Without another word, the two leave the table and head to the bar. As the barkeep prepares their orders, I watch quietly from the distance. Serena notices and waves at me to come over. I shake my head and lift my drink, content with my current seat. She shrugs and then the barkeep hands them their mugs and they start the competition.

Mug after mug the two chug their servings, wide grins on their faces. Before long, the other bar patrons have surrounded them, cheering loudly as they finish each new portion. Never before have I met such a perplexing and powerful woman with so many unanswered questions. Her efforts of deflection earn nothing but suspicion, but this carefree side of her only makes me question her reason. If she is able to smile with such ease, it certainly cannot be too extreme. Yet, that troubled look she gave me, the sound of her voice, all of that spoke otherwise.

The debate reels on silently in my head when the dwarf sits in the chair across from me. His beady eyes are on the bar. "Ah, always the life of the party those two," he says. "But it'll be over soon."

Curious about what he meant, I stare at the bar. Serena is chugging down another serving. She shows no sign of hesitation or inebriation, but Hawke is having a hard time lifting his current ration. He hunches over the counter and puts his hand on his forehead, his cheeks redder than a freshly picked cherry. With a smirk plastered on her face, Serena leans in and whispers something to him. Hawke quickly sits upright and downs the drink. When he's finished, he slams the mug on the table, calls for more, and then unintentionally starts rocking back and forth. Before the next mug can be handed to him, Hawke spouts off some nonsense and then falls off his chair and passes out. The bar patrons burst into an ovation and pat Serena on the back. She merely grabs her next mug and spares me one triumphant glance before finishing the remaining alcohol.


	8. Chapter 8: Ominous Encounters

_**So I believe that now that I'm entering the official transfer preparation phase at school, the days I'm going to start posting will be on the weekends (more than likely Friday or Saturday). Anyways, here's the next chapter! Enjoy! :)**_

**SERENA**

It's been three long, peaceful days since my last encounter with Hawke and the others. I never would've thought my life here would be so uneventful without them. Muscles that I weren't even aware of twitch from the restless boredom—eager to sprint, to test my strength and endurance, to let loose my inner warrior's carnal desires.

As if to match my agitated mood, the dark rain clouds over Kirkwall morph together in inconstant ominous patterns, making me wonder if it's possible for my mood to affect the local weather pattern since rain clouds here are fairly rare. While I consider the notion, I spy an armored figure descend the steps to the alienage in the peripheral of my vision. Excitement rushes through me and I quickly sit up, my eyes glued on the approaching figure.

It's Hawke.

He strides over to me, his chin held high and a wide grin plastered on his handsome, rugged face.

"Serena," he calls up to me. "Could you come down for a second? I'd like to speak with you."

I swiftly slide off the Vhenadahl and land in front of him, my scythe firm in hand. "What is it Hawke? It's rare for you to come seek me out during the day." I attempt to not sound too excited, but a smile takes over my expression regardless.

"I have a favor to ask of you," he explains. "Tonight, the others and I are heading to Darktown to meet with a contact, someone who can lead us into the deep roads for the expedition. I'd like it if you would accompany us."

"Of course, but what for?"

"For backup. It depends upon how our conversation pans out. One can never be too careful when dealing with a fabled Grey Warden."

My heart sinks. The limbs of my body suddenly feel heavier than chainmail. "A Grey Warden?" I ask, my nerves tingling uneasily.

"Yes, and an apostate too. He's been hiding out in Darktown for a year. He doesn't sound very trusting from what I hear."

"Do you have a name?"

Hawke scratches his head, his gaze far off now. "Blasted, what was it? I can't rightfully remember. I believe it started with a B? Or was it a D? Does it matter?"

I bite my lip and rub the bridge of my nose. "No, but…" I stop and sigh. "Is there truly no other way? You have to ask this Warden? You are certain?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"

Licking my lips, I look away and shake my head, attempting to avoid unnecessary eye contact. "No. No, it's not," I say and stroke my fingers through my dark hair. "I'll meet you at the South entrance of Darktown at dusk."

"Is everything alright? You seem… troubled."

"It's nothing. Do not worry about it," I insist and head for the stairs leading to Lowtown, the pace of my steps rapid to enhance my chance of an earlier escape.

"Where are you going?" he asks as I reach the first platform.

"To buy a drink," I shout then disappear around the corner and set out for the Hanged Man.

His eyes are on me. I can feel his curious stare penetrating my bones like a well sharpened blade. Every ounce of my will is required for me not to snap and confront the watchful elf as we head into the filthy depths of Darktown. And the further we tread into Darktown territory, the more nervous and aggravated I become. Every nerve in my body throbs frantically, telling me to leave and not look back, that this isn't the place for me. Grasping the snath of my scythe is my only way of suppressing the powerful desire to run and hide.

Fenris notices and walks beside me, his eyes focused on Hawke and Varric leading in front of us. "What's the matter? You seem more… anxious than usual," he whispers, his deep voice oddly concerned and not accusatory for once.

"It's nothing," I reply and keep my eyes on the dirt path before us.

Hawke leads us up a set of dirty steps to a rotting wooden door. The smell of garbage is strong in this particular area, reminding me of the time I visited the alienage in Denerim the past. When compared, this area would probably rank far worse.

"This is it," Hawke says then pushes the door open and steps inside. Fenris, Bethany, Varric, and I follow him into the room and my gaze immediately scans the area and focuses on a group of people towards the center of the room. A boy is lying on a cot and three people surround him. Two of which are ordinary looking low-class shems—one a gray-haired female and the other a well-built man. The third one though is different. He's a blond human man in an ornate brown robe with some gray fur draped around his shoulders. A blue healing light emits from his pale fingertips and surrounds the small boy like a wool blanket. After a moment, the light vanishes and the boy sits up. The woman sighs and wraps her arms around the child while the older man checks on the mage who has turned his back to us. Their joy is swiftly cut off when the mage suddenly grabs his staff, twirls around, and raises a hand toward the four of us.

"I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation. Why do you—" He stops and centers on me, the anger and fear vanishing from his tense expression and his furrowed eyebrows lowering slightly. "You. It's… you," he whispers and relaxes.

Gulping down the bulge in my throat, I shake my head before Hawke and the others have the chance to glance at me.

The corner of one of Hawke's eyebrows perks up as he stares at me intently. "You two know each other?" he asks.

"We've run into each other in the past. Nothing more," I answer tersely, hoping he'll leave it at that.

Anders stands up straight and looks down at the ground. "Erm.. Yes. That's right," he concurs, although a bit awkwardly.

Without looking anyone in the eye, I motion to the scruffy mage, keeping my head low. "Everyone, allow me to introduce Anders—one of the select few Wardens who served at Amaranthine. Anders, these are my companions, Hawke, Bethany, Varric and Fenris."

"A pleasure," he nods to the others then shifts his attention to me. "But you, what are you doing here? I thought… I mean, you… I never…" He pauses and takes a deep breath. A joyful smile overcomes him. "It's good to see you again. You look well."

"I am. You also seem to be faring rather well considering."

He glimpses around. "Yes, well it could be worse. The smell is the worst out of everything else. And they say Fereldan smells bad. Nothing compared to the barracks though. What's brought you all the way to Darktown? You hate being underground."

"I wouldn't have if I had much of a choice. But you should be asking him that," I gesture to Hawke. "He's the one who's come searching for you."

Hawke steps forward and bows his head. "I'm part of an expedition into the deep roads. Any information you have could save people's lives."

Anders paces a few steps and puts his hand on his forehead, the pupils of his eyes growing dark with grave understanding. "I would die a happy man if I never think about the blighted deep roads again. You can't imagine what I've come through to get here," he says, the tone of his voice pained. "Although… since you're an acquaintance of an old friend, a favor for a favor. Does that sound like a fair deal? You help me. I'll help you."

Hawke puts his hand up to slow the conversation. "Let's be more specific," he replies. "I don't do anything involving children or animals."

The corners of my lips curl up and I stifle a snicker. It's good to know that I can still count on Hawke to lighten the mood a bit when I least expect it. Otherwise this chance meeting would be nothing but tense and stressful.

Anders merely disregards the comment. "I have a Warden map of the depths in this area. But there's a price. I came to Kirkwall to aid a friend—a mage—a prisoner in the wretched gallows. The templars learned of my plan to free him. Help me bring him safely past them, and you shall have your maps."

"How do you plan to break him out of the Gallows?" Hawke asks.

"I'm hoping it won't come to that. I sent Karl a message to meet me in the chantry tonight. Maker willing, he'll be there alone. But if there are templars with him, I swear I'll free him from them whatever the cost."

"Let's hope there is no cost," I interrupt. "It wouldn't be wise to be too rash, especially when we have our own mages to protect." I glance over at Bethany and she looks down at the ground.

"Right," Hawke agrees and folds his arms in front of his chest.

"So then, you'll help?" Anders questions, his voice hopeful but cautious.

Hawke shrugs. "You've convinced me."

I scratch the back of my head. "Thus, I will be helping out as well," I grumble unenthusiastically, the future part of this day appearing grim and full of questioning already.

"I welcome your aid," Anders states, beaming like a young school boy. "And it's been a pleasure to meet all of you. We'll meet at the chantry then tonight, but until then…" He stares at me. "Serena, may I have a word with you?"

All eyes fall on me.

The tension between us is more intense than an apostate attending a templar's funeral.

"I suppose," I reply then look at Hawke who's watching me closely. "I'll meet up with all of you at the Chantry later tonight," I insist, hoping he'll listen and abide to my wish.

He hesitates then consents. "Tonight then," he says, and then he motions to the others, and the four of them take their leave. Once the door shuts firmly behind them and Anders and I are alone, we sit down on a pair of cots that are positioned across from each other.

Anders leans forward and gawks at me, his muddy pupils wide with surprise. "I still can't believe that you're here," Anders says. "When you left, I thought I'd never see you again. Did you find him?"

A painful ache constricts my chest like a violent serpent—the topic still an open wound that I've yet to erase from my memory. "No. He was gone." The words struggle to not get caught in my throat like a giant rock.

"You're certain?"

"I wouldn't have left if I wasn't," I snarl. "A reliable source witnessed the scene. There was nothing more I could do."

Anders rubs his hand against the stubble on his jaw line. "I'm-I'm so sorry, Serena. I can't even imagine—"

"No, you can't," I stop him and stand up, taking the moment to give him an icy glare. I wouldn't let him speak of it more; not when there can still be prying ears. "However, that's all in the past. I am no longer the woman I once was. I have a new life here, and I have no plans of ever going back. So for my sake, please forget everything from the past. It's the only way for me to fully move on. It's the only request I ask of you, Anders."

Anders contemplates my request then exhales. "I understand," he replies. "I may not agree with you, but I understand."

"And our secrets are to remain between us?"

"Of course."

Those two words act as a key that release me from my anxious prison. "Good," I whisper and smile, my tense shoulders relaxing a bit. "Until tonight then, lethallin."

"Until tonight," he says.

With that, I step away from Anders and exit the room. When I'm outside and I close the door behind me, a fragment of white hair enters the corner of my vision. Dread befalls me and I heave a sigh. "Tell me: is it a flat-ear custom to eavesdrop on other people's conversations, or do you just have very bad manners?" I ask and face Fenris.

The scrawny elf doesn't budge and continues to lean against the wall, his toned arms crossed and his calculating sharp gaze on me. "My apologies. You were acting strangely. You didn't seem to want to speak to the mage, so I stuck around."

"Was that all it is? Curiosity had nothing to do with it?"

The elf stands up straight and shifts his eyes to the ground, his mouth partly open as if struggling for words.

Guilt forms in the pit of my stomach as I watch him strain for an answer. To ease the pressure and clear my conscience, I ruffle up my hair and look the other way. "Just don't do it again. I've had enough of Aveline's guards watching me. I don't need another pair of eyes spying on me as well," I explain then face him again. "Also, whatever you heard in there, forget about it. I'll bring up my past in due time on my own terms, but for now it's best forgotten."

Fenris' emerald eyes search mine , attempting to dig deep into my mind and soul. But by the look of dissatisfaction he gives me, he finds nothing. "As you wish," he utters and bows his head.

Unable to resist a triumphant smirk, I pivot away from him. "Good. Now let's go. The smell here is disgusting, and I doubt I'm the only one who thinks this." I look over my shoulder and wink at him. He stiffens so much he could rival a statue. With a laugh, I strut over to the stairs and make my way out of the depths of Darktown, leaving the past and the stunned elf behind me.


	9. Chapter 9: Quiet Nights

_**So fact of the day: I actually had to write this chapter twice, which is why it's so late (I know. I'm sorry! .). I lost the USB that had the original document, thus I had to rewrite it from scratch. To make up for the delay, after I'm done participating in the Color Run tomorrow, I'll finish up the next one. Until then... Happy Reading! **_

**FENRIS**

It's been two weeks since Hawke and Serena insisted on helping out the abomination. The days and nights have been fairly quiet with relatively few disruptions from the usual town lowlifes. Darnius' and his hirelings have yet to launch another attack—although they haven't had much of a chance. During the night I often lie awake, either waiting for their next ambush or for Hawke and Serena to rush up the stairs demanding to play a few rounds of diamondback. Serena's most recent prize—some bottles of red wine—are piled beside the lit fireplace, abandoned and empty like the rest of this rotting place. The fruity scent of the liquor still lingers in the air and permeates my nostrils.

To pass the time this uneventful night, I toss one bottle after the other into the hearth. The glass shatters as it hits the stone and the flickering flames swell brilliantly. After each throw my eyes scan the room, partially expecting Serena to appear in the doorway and make a humorous comment.

But she doesn't.

She hasn't shown herself since the night Hawke and I tried to probe her for more information about her past when we were last gathered at the Hanged Man. At the time she looked more furious than a Ben-Hassrath who found the thief that stole their sword. But is it possible she's still upset? Several days have already passed. Surely she must've calmed down by now.

_Perhaps I should pay her a visit. Yes, I think I will._

I stand up and head for the door. When I'm midway I stop and turn around. I dig my fingers into my hair and clench my teeth.

_Venhedis! _What am I thinking? Why must I concern myself with this? I should be focused on tracking down Danarius. How that woman feels should be none of my business. There's no time to be playing mind games like young children.

Cursing in Tevinter under my breath, I lean against the cool wall and sit on the floor, letting my legs stretch out in front of me. The sounds of the crackling flames in the hearth are suddenly accompanied with a knocking coming from downstairs. My ears twitch and I glance at the door, knowing well that one of our party companions have come to visit based off of the coded knock. After the door downstairs creaks open and shuts, I recognize Hawke's paced footsteps as he ascends the stairs. When he reaches my door, his dark eyes check the room and fall on me.

The corners of his lips curl up. "Isn't it a bit early to be drinking alone this time of night? Do you have nothing better to do?" he asks.

I suppress the desire to groan. "What do you want Hawke?"

He crosses his arms and smirks. "Your aid. I figured it's been long enough. I've gathered the rest of our party members. Care to join us?"

"Our mission?" I question.

"To locate a few missing templars who are possibly 'clearing their heads' outside of Kirkwall. The usual."

"Very well," I answer and Hawke helps me to my feet. Once I'm up, I walk across the room, grab my sword and place it in its holster on my back. The two of us then head for the door and descend the main staircase.

When we're almost at the bottom, Hawke looks at me and grins. "Also, I managed to convince someone to join us," he says and opens the front door.

We step outside, and under the cover of moonlight Varric and Bethany can be seen gathered around Serena. The elf is leaning against the wall near the stairs leading to the Chantry courtyard. She eyes me and smiles.

My breath instantly gets caught in my throat.

I only start breathing again when Hawke pats me on the shoulder and puts his lips to my ear. "She's decided to forgive us," he whisper. "Good to hear, right?"

I chuckle and Hawke walks over to the others. "Very good indeed."


	10. Chapter 10: Temptress of the Night

_I can't believe we're on chapter 10 already, but here we are! I'd like to thank all of you who are following the story and/or made it one of your favorites. It means a lot. :') Anyways, happy reading! Let me know what you all think. :) _

**SERENA**

Hair as dark as Brecilian bark and silver eyes as bright as moonstone, ever since I laid eyes on this woman there's been no doubt in my mind that she's a force to be reckoned with. I don't know if it's because of the confident way she swivels her hips when she walks, or the way she stares down Hawke like he's a succulent cake waiting to be devoured, but something about her makes my insides tingle like I've come in to contact with a tainted Tevinter magister. Her stage name doesn't make it better.

After all, who would call themselves an exotic wonder? If she's working in the Blooming Rose, there's not much left to speculate. And anyone worth the tab wouldn't dare apply so much makeup. It's basically screaming, "Hey, look at me. I need more customers." Men like a little bit more mystery and subtlety—at least based off of my prior observations. But perhaps the times are changing.

"Questions are boring," Idunna purrs and sits down on her bed. "Why don't we have some _real_ fun," she insists and strokes the sheets.

I cross my arms and roll my eyes. As tempting as a woman she may be, Hawke wouldn't fall for such obvious evasion—at least I hope he wouldn't.

"Hawke, go easy on this… lovely creature," Varric pitches in, his voice melodic.

My nerves skyrocket.

Never before have I seen him look or speak to anyone other than Bianca the way he's looking at Idunna now.

Something's wrong—very wrong. And I need to find out what and fast.

"You should listen to your friend," Idunna agrees. The way the words roll off her tongue like a monotone lullaby cause Goosebumps to form on my arms and a shiver to slither down my spine.

"We have to ask her about Keran," Hawke responds, his eyebrows furrowed with confusion and surprise. "What's your problem?"

"Yes, yes." Varric replies with a smirk, his eyes still glued on the woman. "But certainly there's no harm mixing a little… business with pleasure."

Hawke shakes his head and focuses on Idunna, dismissing the odd behavior of the dwarf. "As charming and relentless as you are, I'm here to investigate," he says.

Idunna merely stares at him. "Answer one of my questions first," she utters. "Who told you about little old me?" she emphasizes the ending.

Hawke opens his mouth and lifts his hand, and then pauses as if a chunk of meat has gotten caught in his throat. "It was… Vivika. She showed me… her books," he says.

Idunna stands up and struts over to Hawke, a triumphant sneer on her powdered face. I carefully watch and clench onto my scythe, prepared to jump between the two of them if necessary. "That wasn't so hard… was it?" she asks and glares at us. "So Vivika sold me out did she? That drab, pathetic little sewer rat. She will be dealt with," she growls, malice coating her voice like fine Orleasian silk.

A hazy feeling passes over me. It's as if gravity is pushing harder on me and it's attempting to keep me stationary. Every limb in my body feels ten times heavier like I'm wearing multiple layers of chainmail. I know I've felt this sensation before. It was sometime in the past, back in my time in Fereldan. But where? The haze makes it hard to remember. It was some point in the circle tower.

"Just do one more thing for me," Idunna murmurs and realization hits me. "Draw your blade," Hawke unsheathes his dagger. "And bring it gently across your thro-"

I smack Idunna in the chest with the blunt end of my scythe before she can finish, and she instantly flies backward and hits the wall. She gasps and slides down to the ground, her mouth wide open like a gaping fish. I walk over to her and swiftly put my blade against her throat, anger threatening to overtake me.

She blinks up at me. "How did you…? Oh shit."

"You're going to answer all our questions. Now," I snarl. "And I strongly suggest no more funny business."

**HAWKE**

"Well, that was more eventful than anticipated," I chime as Varric, Bethany, Fenris, Serena and I make our way through the dark Lowtown market.

"Oh, you think? I thought it was rather bland running around fighting blood mages, demons, and walking skeletons. But that's just me," Serena replies flatly, irritation evident in the quick pace of her walk and the low tone of her voice.

I purse my lips and look ahead. "Well, perhaps I'll be able to make it up to you at the Hanged Man? Drinks will be on me."

"At least there's one highlight to this evening," she grumbles.

"No kiddin," Varric agrees as we head up the steps leading to the Hanged Man. "What I would like to know is how you fought off that woman's blood magic. The mysteries around you just keeping growing larger and larger, elf."

Serena's lips form a seductive smirk. "Yes well, what you should be focusing on is the fact that we're still alive. Miniscule details are better left for later."

Varric shakes his head. "Always the elusive one, aren't you?"

"Of course. If I wasn't, how else would you portray me in your stories?"

"A warrior temptress that's a master of seduction?"

Serena grins. "We can certainly make that work."

"And this is why I like you," Varric says with a snicker.

Serena tilts her head and pushes a loose strand of her hair behind her ear while I open the door to the Hanged Man. "Oh and here I thought it was because we both have an admiration for handsome chest hair and crossbows."

"That too," Varric nods as we enter the building. Once inside, the strong scent of alcohol and musk perforates our senses. At the bar, a sultry young woman with perfectly sun kissed skin and mahogany colored hair can be heard talking to three scruffy looking men in armor—one a dirty blond, another a platinum blond, and the final one being a redhead. When the conversation appears to turn south, the man with dirty blond hair slams her mug on the counter, drawing the attention of the entire tavern.

The woman doesn't appear to be affected, but the next moment she grabs hold of the man's head, bangs it on the table, and watches him fall to the floor. A full on fight between the three ensues. After a few quick maneuvers that leave two of the men groaning in pain, the dirty blond stands up then reaches for his sword. But before he can draw it, the tip of the woman's dagger is pointed at his throat. They exchange a few words and then the three men rush off, leaving the woman alone at the bar to continue drinking.

Serena heads over to the counter and I follow behind her, curious about her sudden initiative to separate from the group, moreover to confront a woman who just won a brawl with three men. Varric, Bethany, and Fenris watch us from a distance.

"Oh Creators, you must be joking," Serena says aloud and the woman perks up.

She shifts her gaze on us and her eyes focus on Serena. A lustful smile appears on her beautiful face as she eyes the elf up and down. "Well, I'll be an Andrastian sister," she says and sets down her drink, carefully angling her body towards us so that she can reveal a large amount of cleavage. "I never thought I'd see you here in Kirkwall, _sweet thing_. How fortuitous."

Serena stops a few feet away from her. "Isabela, you seem to be doing well."

"Much more so _now_," Isabela purrs. She saunters over to Serena, her hips swaying like a boat on the open water. When she's two feet away, she leans in close, her lips only centimeters away from the elf's. "Care to join me for a night of fun for old times sake?" she whispers.

Serena lifts one hand and gently strokes her fingers down the front of Isabela's neck. "Love, not in front of the children…" She giggles and glances at me.

My heart thuds in my chest. I clear my throat and struggle to keep eye contact. "I hate to interrupt… but… you two…are you..?"

Isabela's eyebrows rise and her lustful gaze falls on me. "And who is this? A friend of yours?" she asks.

"You could say that," Serena replies, amusement apparent in her shimmering teal eyes.

Isabela grins. "Mm… Interesting," she muses. "You must be new around here. I'm Isabela, previously Captain Isabela. Sadly, without my ship the title rings a bit hollow."

Serena's charming demeanor vanishes and is replaced with alarm. "You lost your ship?" she asks and moves away. "Isabela. When?"

Isabela looks down at the ground and shifts her weight in an awkward manner. "It's a long and rather comical story," she says then finally lifts her face to watch Serena. "But I'll save that story for later. Perhaps you'd be able to help me with my current task at hand."

Serena lets out a loud sigh. "Can't anyone fix their own lives around here?"

The pirate shrugs. "Must be something in the water."

"Well the water should be dealt with immediately then."

A laugh builds in my throat, but I stifle it in fear of Serena's foul mood returning from earlier. Isabela appears to notice my struggle and concentrates on me, her dark eyes inquisitive and glimmering like a jewel. Feeling awkward, I rub the back of my neck and look off to the side. "I'd be more than willing to help myself, but we need to have enough time to rest since tomorrow we're set to visit Sundermount to visit the Dalish," I explain, hoping that will satiate her curiosity.

Serena perks up and shifts toward me. "When did you decide this?" she asks.

"We spoke about it a week ago while we were at Fenris' mansion."

"I don't recall this," she replies, skepticism in her voice.

"Well, you agreed to it. I have a witness." I gesture to Fenris.

He crosses his arms and looks away. "Do not drag me into this, Hawke," he growls.

"Well, it's true."

Serena keeps her gaze on me as if searching for an answer. "Fenris, did I really agree to that?" she asks without looking at him.

Fenris doesn't respond. His attention remains on the fireplace across the room.

"Fenris!" Serena snaps.

He sighs and shrugs. "You may have agreed to it, yes," he answers. "In your defense, that was after your third bottle of liquor."

"Well, that explains a lot," Serena remarks and strokes her fingers through her hair. "You can't go alone with the others?"

"I need you to be there," I insist. "You're the only one who can relate and talk to them. Alone, they'll just look at us as unwelcome visitors."

"Why does this bother you so much, Twinkle Toes? What are you keeping from us?" Varric questions.

"Nothing," Serena responds.

All of us glare her down.

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. "Nothing important."

Fenris furrows his eyebrows and directs his emerald eyes at the Dalish. "You say that, but I for one am not convinced," he comments.

Serena narrows her eyes at him. "When are you ever?" she retorts.

Varric lets out a single laugh. "She has a point."

Fenris grunts and looks away. When he's no longer watching her, Serena's attention returns to me.

"Please. I need you," I assert.

She bites her lip and stares down at the ground. One of her hands dig deep into her hair as she battles with her decision, her fingers ruffling the strands furiously as if they're fighting giant brown serpents. Her lips form a firm line, and she looks up at me. I give her my best pleading look, and she sighs. "Very well," she moans. "I expect payment in return—preferably in fine wine. And I'm not talking about cheap fine wine. I want the best of the best. Understood?"

A smile overcomes me. "Of course."

She returns the smile then turns to Isabela. "Until then, you come with me," she says and puts her finger under the pirate's chin. "We'll deal with this acquaintance of yours later."


	11. Chapter 11: The Dalish Camp

**_Well, midterms are over with for now so I can finally catch up on my work here. After this chapter things will really start to get interesting since there's only about three or four more chapters until the Act two portion (I hope you all are ready :]). Thank you to all who are following the story, have favorite it, or left reviews. Truth be told, whenever I get a new notification about this story it makes my day and I can't stop smiling XD. Anyways, here's the next chapter! I'm almost done with the next one, so stay tuned for that one as well. Let me know what you think. :)_**

**HAWKE**

Amongst the sea of greenery and stone ruins, patches of red cloth can be seen towering up into the sky as Varric, Fenris, Serena and I near the Dalish camp of Sundermount. Serena has acted more oddly than usual since we reached the mountain. Within the past half hour alone I've seen her rub at her arms about forty times, look off to the side as if to hide her face within her hair, and take careful measures to stay in my shadow even if it risked taking out a bush to do so. It's taken all of my willpower—and apparently Fenris' and Varric's willpower as well based off of their incessant fidgeting—not to confront her about her strange behavior to make sure she couldn't use our questioning as an excuse to turn around and return to Kirkwall.

As we make our way around a bend in the trail though, my attention is sidetracked when the campsite comes into view.

Giant wooden caravans decorated in red cloth stand tall in a clearing past a collapsed stone archway. A red flag decorates the stone arch on both sides. Two armed elven guards watch the entrance. Their green and silver leather armor compliment their darker complexions and ebony hair. Faded swirling tattoos cover their faces from the bottom of their chins, past their pointed ears, and all the way across their foreheads as if to signify the vast difference between our races.

When we approach, the male raises his gloved hand and an intimidating scowl overtakes his expression. "Hold shemlen," he speaks up in an accented tone. "Your kind is not welcome among the Dalish."

"Yes, I know this," I explain. "But I promise you that I'm here for a good reason."

"There is nothing here for any humans," he snarls. "Be gone or you have sealed your fate." He grasps tightly onto his bow and the woman does the same.

I step back and almost fall on Serena, but she moves out of the way and steps in front of me. "Let them through, lethallin," she says sternly and the two guards look at her. "They're with me."

The two elves crinkle their brows and their jaws drop.

Silence descends our group.

"Serena? You… have returned…?" the male responds after a moment, but his words don't appear to register in his head until after he's spoken them based off of his relaxed form.

Serena nods and her lips form a firm line. "Yes, I have. But let us skip the tearful reunion and move straight to business, shall we? I'm not expecting tea and cakes. Where may I find the keeper? I need to speak with her right away."

The two guards pause then the woman steps forward and motions for our group to follow her through the campsite. "This way," she says, and we enter the camp.

Serena leads our portion of the group and sticks closest to the female guard, her gaze directed forward and refusing to look back at the rest of us. As we pass the other elves inside the camp, many of them stop what they're doing, whisper, and stare. They congregate together and gradually start to trail behind us. The female guard leads us to an older woman who's standing by a fire and facing away from us. When we're within a few feet, the guard stops and allows us to pass.

"Keeper," Serena says and the older woman turns toward us. Gold markings cover the elder elf's face, matching the golden trim on her elegant silver robe. Her gray hair is neatly tied up into a bun and a wooden staff is holstered on her back.

The Keeper's green eyes scan Serena and her pink lips barely part, as if at a loss for words.

"Before you jump to conclusions," Serena stops her. "Allow me to explain the purpose of my visit. I have not come to return to the clan. I have a few guests I've brought here to see you. That is all." She gestures for me to step forward.

I close the distance between the Keeper and I and pull out the amulet from my chest pocket. "I was told to bring you this amulet," I explain.

The Keeper examines it then looks up at me. "Andaran atish'an travelers," she says and slightly bows her head. "Let me look at you." She tilts her head and her green eyes pierce through me like a demon ripping through the Veil, causing a nervous shiver to rip down my spine. "There is a light in your heart human. Don't let it go out. You will need it, just as our Serena did."

I glance at Serena and she immediately looks away and crosses her arms.

_I guess there's another question that's out... _

"Tell me how this burden fell to you, child," the Keeper asks.

The memory of that day floods my vision. Even the minor details such as what the weather was like and what I had for breakfast are clear as if it were yesterday. Unfortunately, the one that's most clear isn't the breakfast portion.

Before I can allow my grief for Carver to resurface, I attempt to shrug it off and look down at the ground. "A dragon fell from the sky, charred some darkspawn then asked me to bring you this amulet. No big deal," I insist, hoping she won't ask for more details. "But why did the witch tell me to bring this to you?"

The woman's eyes gloss over. "I am tied to Asha'bellanar —just as you are—by a debt that must be repaid."

"Asha'bellanar," Serena gasps. Her eyes grow as wide as apples and she glares at me. "Hawke, why did you not mention this?"

"I didn't think it'd be important."

"Creators." She puts a hand to her forehead. "And what debt is it that _you_ speak of Keeper? What debt must you repay?"

"That is none of your concern, dahlen. You need not worry."

Serena scoffs. "Too late," she says and paces.

"Exactly what have I been carrying around? Is it magic?" I question, a tad unnerved seeing Serena's reaction.

"It is a promise child—made by one who's words still has weight," the Keeper answers. "And therefore, it has terrible power. There are few things in this world stronger than a promise kept. Remember that." The Keeper purses her lips and looks down for a moment. "The amulet must be taken to an altar at the top of the mountain and given a Dalish rite for the departed. Then, return the amulet to me. Do this and your debt will be repaid." She hands me the amulet and I put it back in my pocket.

Serena holds up her hand. "Oh no. Keeper, if you are suggesting what I think you are, you are unleashing a terrible power. Moreover, you're doing it willingly. Why? Why would you do this at the risk of our own people?"

"We have no choice. The promise must be kept or all will be lost."

Serena curses and turns her back on us. Her fingers dig furiously into her dark hair as if threatening to pull the strands out.

"I will send my First with you," the Keeper continues. "She will see to it the ritual is done. And when it is complete, I… must ask that you take her with you… when you go."

Serena twirls around, alarm filling her green eyes."What? But why? Why are you sending Merrill away?"

The Keeper's eyes soften with a profound sense of sadness. "Merrill has chosen a new path. It is her wish, and I must grant it. Please, guide her safely from here," she requests.

Biting her lip, Serena turns away and sighs.

"You will find Merrill waiting for you on trail just up the mountain," the Keeper tells me. "Dareth shiral. Safe journey to you and your friends. Let Mythal guide your path."

"Andruil's bow I can't believe this…" Serena mutters as we exit the Dalish camp and head up the dirt path leading to the top of Sundermount.

"Neither can I," I reply. "Although it'd probably be a bit easier to believe anything if I had a full insight as to what's actually going on. You know, just a few minor details such as who this witch is, why you're so bothered by it, and what exactly this ceremony entails that makes you so ungodly nervous. Nothing too major. Just a thought."

Serena shakes her head. "I'll explain everything later. But for now, let's focus on the task at hand and get this over with. Can you agree to do that?"

"I suppose so. That doesn't seem like too hard of a task, at least for the moment."

She chuckles and then suddenly stops. The rest of us follow suit. I watch as her pointed ears perk up similar to a dogs and then her eyes widen. I follow her line of sight and see a young elven woman with short black hair make her way around a corner up ahead. She peers around, notices us, then proceeds in our direction. Adorned in green leather clothing from top to bottom, the woman is similar to the other elves back at camp. The only differences are a yellow scarf wrapped loosely around her neck and the staff she has latched on her back. As she gets nearer, it's also apparent the markings on her face are darker than the other elves we've encountered.

"Serena, it's really you," the woman cries and swiftly rushes to Serena and wraps her arms around her neck. "I was so worried. Creators mercy, I thought I might never see you again."

"Merrill, I'm glad you are well," Serena says and pats her on the back. The two separate and look into each other's eyes, both of which are a beautiful green. "We have much to discuss, but for now…" Serena glances at me.

"Yes," Merrill nods and faces the rest of our group. "Aneth ara. You must be the one the keeper told me about," she greets us then she stares down at the ground. "I'm so sorry. I didn't ask your name. Unless, it's not rude to ask a human their name is it?" she questions. "I'm Merrill, which you probably knew already. I'm rambling… sorry."

Serena laughs and pats the other elf on the back. "You mustn't be so nervous, Merrill. They're not the Dread Wolf come to get you. They won't harm you."

"Yes. But they're only the second human I've seen up close. Last time was not a happy memory."

The smile on Serena's face vanishes, and the two avoid eye contact.

I clear my throat and catch both of their attention. "You'd have to work harder than that to offend me. My name's Hawke."

Merrill grins. "Thank you. I'm afraid I'm not very experienced with your kind," she pauses and looks up at the sky. "The sun will set soon. We won't make it up the mountain in time, but we should go now. Your task is for Asha'bellanar. It's not wise to make her wait."

"You have no idea," Serena comments with a brief chuckle then starts walking up the trail. After a few feet she looks back at us, an eyebrow raised as she eyes our group. "Come. Let's get this over with before I do something even more careless that'll infuriate the Keeper."


	12. Chapter 12: Past and Present

_**Here's the next chapter! Again, many thanks to those who are following the story, have favorite it, or have left reviews. Your support encourages me to keep going. :) Let me know what you think. :)**_

**FENRIS**

Night has fallen, and as predicted we were not able to reach the top of the mountain. Our group has set up camp in a small clearing about halfway up Sundermount. Hawke and Varric are busy kindling the campfire, joking about some of Hawke's adventures back in Kirkwall, while the elven mage and Serena have both wandered off within the few minutes when I was scouting the perimeter. A part of me is tempted to ask Hawke and the dwarf about their locations, but knowing how consumed the two can be in each other's conversation, they more than likely would yield no results. Seeing no point in disturbing them, I step out of the clearing and start to search for the two elves myself for the sake of wasting some time.

The pale moon lights my path as I make my way around the large pines. Their fresh scent overwhelms my senses, an unfamiliar sensation to anyone who's grown accustomed to the heart of a bustling city and all of its… attributes. Within fifty feet, all I can see and smell are pines. There's not a trace of any other life.

And then I see her.

About twenty feet down the slope, I can see the figure of a young woman adorned in leather armor sitting down on the ground, her back facing me and a scythe glinting beside her. Her dark hair flutters in the brisk night breeze and gently caresses the exposed skin on her fair slim shoulders, adding a more ethereal look to the lone elf.

Even now I still can't imagine anything drastic weighing down those shoulders—either presently or in the past. They simply look so delicate, as if even a bit of weight may break her. But now, after seeing the emotion between her and her clansmen today, I know that there was something—something that sincerely hurt her and changed this clan. I could see it in her eyes whenever she spoke or questioned the Keeper's statements, and when she reunited with Merrill. The pain was there. The sadness was there. And both were more profound than I could've ever imagined. The only time I've ever seen such sadness was when Hadriana separated a young woman from her newborn and told her they were going to kill it for one of Danarius' rituals to entertain his guests.

That woman took her own life five days later.

With this thought in mind, I quietly approach Serena. When I'm about ten feet away, she glances back at me.

Before she can object, I sit down beside her and fixate my gaze on the slope in front of us. In the corner of my eye I can see she's watching me carefully, as if sizing up what my presence may mean. After possibly coming up with a hundred conclusions, she faces forward and rests her chin on her knees.

"Tell me," I start and she looks over at me. "You were a hunter in this clan, yet why is it you do not seem overjoyed to be among your people again?"

A soft chuckle escapes her lips and she flashes me a faint smile before looking out at the abyss of trees again. "There are many reasons. But most of all, it's because I wasn't planning on coming back," she says. "I…Well…" The sadness returns to her eyes. I can see the internal struggle as she recalls a time I am unfamiliar with. After a moment, she closes her eyes and looks away. "It doesn't matter. It's all in the past now."

I nod and take her words in, knowing that it would be unwise to prod further into the subject. For a good minute, only the sound of the leaves rustling in the trees can be heard around us.

"In Tevinter, we are often told stories about the Dalish," I continue. "However, most of which lacked substance or promise, so I often dismissed them. But what was life like for you growing up among the Dalish? Did you enjoy it?"

Serena laughs. "How does one compare all that they've ever known?" she asks. "But to attempt to answer your question, yes I enjoyed it. I was an orphan growing up. Before I was born my father was killed by some shem, and my mother abandoned me in her grief shortly after I was born. The clan raised me as their own. They taught me everything I know—how to fight, how to track, our history, everything." Her eyes gloss over as if returning to that time so long ago. A sparkle of happiness glitters in her eyes. And then it shatters, and the sadness returns. "Up until a few years ago, I never imagined living my life without them," she whispers then strokes her fingers through her hair. "Oh how the times have changed."

"This change…" I respond, curiosity getting the better of me. "It must've been fairly drastic to separate you from your clan."

She frowns and looks down at her lap. "Yes, you could say that…" she answers. "Many have told me it was fate or destiny, others the will of the Maker or coincidence. I don't question it anymore. But the point of the matter is… we lost someone, all to a foolish mistake. And because of it, I can never go back. I can't."

"Was it someone important to you?" I ask.

She nods. "Yes, very much so."

I place my hand on her knee and look into her eyes. "Words are not sufficient, but I am sorry for your loss."

She smiles and places her hand on mine. Electricity shoots through my veins at the contact even though my armor separates us. "Ma serannas. You are very kind," she says and then giggles, a mesmerizing smile returning to her beautiful face and forcing me to look at her luscious coral lips. "Although you are a flat ear, I am glad you joined our team Fenris," she says. "Your presence here means more to me than you could know."

I nod, but truthfully I didn't hear a word.

I'm too consumed at looking at her lips. The thought of what it would be like to devour them, to taste them on my own over and over again, is driving me absolutely mad. The hunger is more demanding than anything I have ever known. Before I realize it, I'm reaching for her cheek with my other hand and my thumb traces her bottom lip.

Serena's eyes widen and her lips barely part. "Fenris…?" she whispers, her quiet voice acting as a strong spell of seduction that sets fire to the core of my body. A low growl builds in the back of my throat and I lean toward her, attempting to bury my fingers deep into her hair to pull her closer.

As I'm about to claim her lips with my own, the sound of a branch breaking comes from behind us.

We both look back to see Merrill, her cheeks a flaming red.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to…" She tries to use her hand to shield herself from looking at us. "I…I will just be going then," she says and heads back up to camp, stumbling along the way.

Serena looks at me then quickly stands up and backs away, her hand on her neck and a slight blush appearing on her cheeks. "I.. am going to go get some rest," she says and points in the direction of camp with her thumb then picks up her scythe. "Till tomorrow, Fenris," she nods at me then walks the same path as Merrill.

I can only watch as she disappears behind the trees, wondering what has come over me.


	13. Chapter 13: A Witch of the Wilds

_**Alright, here's the next chapter! Hope you guys like it. Let me know what you think. Oh, and happy Saturday! :)**_

**SERENA**

Darkness—it's surrounded us for a majority of the morning. So much so that for the past hour, I'd almost forgotten what it feels like to be out in the light. The cloudiness of my own mind after the other night doesn't help it either. I'm quickly reminded though when we exit the damp cave and enter an open clearing with a beautiful hanging outlook of the rolling mountains and valleys below us.

"Well, that was an experience," Hawke says as we all blink our eyes to adjust to the change of setting.

"No kidding," Varric huffs then looks at me. "I never would've pictured you to be so scared of spiders, Twinkle Toes. How am I supposed to play you off as a fearless war goddess now?" A faint smirk forms on his face, clearly recalling the massacre I led earlier as we make our way further out into the opening and toward a blue barrier that blocks our path.

"Oh, she's always been terrified of spiders for as long as I can remember," Merrill adds. "When we were young, any mention of one would cause her to storm off. And this one time when Tamlen tried to show her a small one, Serena punched him and then ran off."

I chuckle as I recall the memory. Tamlen didn't speak to me for a week because of that. But he should've known better. He was asking to be punished—just as those spiders were when they ambushed us.

"Every hero has to have a flaw, otherwise their story isn't interesting," I respond and look through the shimmering translucent barrier before us. Past it are some crumbling steps descending to some collapsed stone structures. A dense fog hovers a few feet off the ground. Merely looking at the sight causes the hairs on my arms to stand on end and a dreadful feeling to weigh down my stomach. "You'd all be wise to forget that ever happened though and focus on the task at hand. I have a feeling that the real fun is about to begin. But that's just a suggestion."

After I say this, Merrill and I stop directly in front of the barrier and the others halt a few steps behind us. "I can open the way forward," she says. "One moment."

I watch as Merrill walks up to the barrier. For a second, she merely stares at the impenetrable force; and then suddenly, she pulls a dagger out of her pocket and slices the blade across her palm.

Red fills my vision. Tiny droplets of her blood fly everywhere then abruptly stop in midair as she uses magic to direct the blood at the barrier to destroy it. It immediately shatters, thus clearing our way to the area below. But the result ends with an icy chill filling the air and disembodied ghostly whispers reaching my ears and uttering incomprehensible sayings.

Despite the chaos she may have just unleashed, Merrill turns around to face us, completely expressionless.

Fenris shakes his head. "Blood magic. Foolish, very foolish." he says.

Merrill frowns. "Yes, it was blood magic. But I know what I'm doing," she insists. "The spirit helped us, didn't it?" She turns to me.

"Sure, demons are very helpful—right up until they take your mind and then turn you into a monster," I snap, unable to restrain the malice in my voice as I clench tightly onto my scythe. To think I thought she knew better...

"Well, yes. But that won't happen. I know how to defend myself."

I scoff and rub the tips of my fingers on my forehead. "If only I had a sovereign for every time I've heard someone say that. I'd be the richest person in Kirkwall!"

"I can," Merrill argues.

"For now!"

She scowls at me.

Before she can open her mouth though, I put up my hand and sigh, realizing the pointlessness of the conversation at the moment. "We will talk about this later. Let's finish our current task. But no more blood magic—not in this eerie place." I glance around the clearing.

The whispers have all but vanished, but the chill is still there, lingering in the darkness.

Merrill looks around and nods. "Be careful up ahead. Restless things prowl the heights," she says and we all step forward to look down at the area below. "In the days of Arlathan, the elders came here to sleep. Uthenara –the endless dream they called it. But they don't sleep peacefully anymore."

"They never do—at least not when we're involved." I raise an eyebrow at Hawke and he grins. I return a smile of my own, and then stare out at the graves. Once I've taken in the entire scene, I descend the broken stone steps. The others follow closely behind.

As we reach the bottom, I eye the collapsed stone graves carefully, scrutinizing for any possible danger. But all I can see are a few lit candles with flickering green flames and sets of broken pottery scattered about.

Past the graves is another clearing. At the far end, more broken steps lead up to a lookout where a stone altar rests. Tall stones circle around it, and a few armored skeletons lie in front of it.

I raise my arm and have the others halt. In my head I count the amount of skeletons and take note of any weapons. When I've calculated the risk, I glance back at the others and nod. Everyone quietly draws their weapons. When everyone's prepared, I move forward.

The corpses immediately rise and an arcane horror and shadow warrior appear. Fenris and Hawke's shouting echo through the sky, resonating like rolling thunder. One by one I take my scythe and strike through any corpse that crosses my path, sending pieces of bone and armor flying everywhere. When my fourth one has fallen, I glare at the Arcane Horror hovering in front of us. Fenris knocks his opponent down and rushes up beside me. He looks at me, and then the two of us charge at the monster together. Before we can strike it though, a bolt passes us and pierces the creature's chest. The creature shudders and then a fireball consumes it.

Fenris and I stop and look back at our group. Merrill and Varric stand beside each other, the corner of their lips curling up into a faint smile. The remaining skeletons are collapsed at their feet, and Hawke stands nearby attempting to tug his sword out of a skeleton's rib cage.

"I think it's safe now," Merrill speaks up and lowers her staff just as Hawke frees his sword. "Put the amulet on the altar, and I'll begin the rite."

Hawke digs into his chest pocket, pulls out the amulet, and strides past Fenris and me. As he ascends the broken steps, my nerves tingle uneasily. He looks down at the altar before placing the amulet down, perhaps admiring the way the blue-green flame in the center of the altar flickers or the two simple stone piles that guard the corners. When he's done, he steps back and Merrill steps forward. She begins the rite in our people's ancient tongue. I recognize little of it, but I can sense the power within each sentence.

At the end, a black and orange flame bursts up from the altar. It flashes and swirls like a raging storm.

And then a person's form appears.

Flemeth emerges with a blue flame surrounding her, her appearance slightly altered from the last time I saw her, although not by much. Long white tresses still fall past her shoulders, but a few portions are tied back with purple ribbon in a way that makes them look like horns. A new silver headdress covers her forehead and matches her silver earrings, a nice contrast to the dark makeup she's now sporting.

Once the blue flame around her fades and her form solidifies, Flemeth's golden eyes flicker open and focus on our group. "Ah. And here we are," she purrs in a husky voice.

"A witch," Fenris gasps and readies his sword.

"It's alright Fenris," Merrill stops him. "She means us no harm."

"Speak for yourself," I retort and glower at the witch. "Flemeth. Long time no see."

Flemeth stares at me and her eyebrows rise. "Ah, yes. It feels like just yesterday when you pierced your sword through my head. My how the years go by, don't they?"

"Somehow I knew you wouldn't die so easily. It seems my intuition was correct. Now the question is why?"

"The better question would be why not?" She laughs. "But do not worry, child. You are still of use to me. I will not hold you accountable for my Morrigan's plot. You have nothing to fear."

I shake my head. "For some reason, I highly doubt that."

Flemeth shifts her weight onto one foot and puts one hand on her hip. "Believe what you wish. As I've said before, you are required to do nothing, least of all believe." As she says this, she grins and her golden eyes glisten just as they had so many years before. The power within them still gives me the shivers and makes me want to beat the answers out of her, but I know better than to do so, not here when the others are completely unprepared to face a woman like her.

Flemeth's eyes scan our group and land on Merrill.

Merrill immediately bows. "Andaran atish'an, Asha'belannar," she says.

"One of the people," Flemeth muses. "I see. So young and bright. Do you know who I am beyond that title?" There's a tint of curiosity in her voice.

"I know only a little," Merrill replies.

"Then stand. The people bend their knee too quickly." Merrill does as she's told, and Flemeth looks out at our group. Her eyes land on Hawke and the corners of her lips curl up. "So refreshing to see someone who keeps their end of the bargain. I half expected my amulet to end up in a merchants pocket."

Hawke shrugs. "No one wanted to buy it. Maybe because it had a witch inside?"

"Just a piece," she utters. "A small piece. But it was all I needed. A bit of security should the inevitable occur. And by the looks of it, it already has."

She stares at me and I hold her gaze. The tension between us grows so heavy that I can feel the world's pressure pushing down on me, but the others don't appear to notice.

"You are no simple witch," Fenris states with his eyebrows furrowed.

"Figure that out yourself did you?" Flemeth responds, amusement coating her voice.

He glares at the woman, frustration filling his cold eyes. "I have seen powerful mages, spirits and abominations. But you are none of those things. What are you?"

"Such a curious lad," she whispers and puts a hand to her chin as if deep in thought. "The chains are broken, but are you truly free?"

Fenris tenses. "You see a great deal."

Flemeth smirks. "I am a fly in the ointment, a whisper in the shadows. I am also an old, old woman. More than that, you need not know."

Hawke rubs the back of his neck, perhaps frustrated by this response as well. "Why did you need me to bring you here then? You seem quite capable yourself."

"Because I had an appointment to keep." Flemeth glances at me. "And because I did not want to be followed. You smuggled me here quite nicely."

My fists clench. At least that's one answer. Now there's only about a hundred left to go...

"I don't understand. Are you some kind of vision then?" Hawke asks.

Flemeth cackles. "Must I only be in one place?" She crosses her arms. "Bodies are such limiting things. I am but a fragment cast adrift from the whole. A bit of flotsam to cling to in the storm."

"A fragment?" Hawke and I say in unison.

She steps toward us. "You do not need to understand, children. Know only that you may have saved my life just as I once saved yours. An even trade I think."

I sigh and push a loose strand of hair behind my ear, knowing that that's the end of that conversation for now. "You have plans I take it."

She smiles. "Destiny awaits us both, dear girl. We have much to do. Before I go though, a word of advice," she pauses and turns around to stare out at the land below. The grey clouds above appear to move in the direction of the woman's gaze. The way they merge and flow together at such an unusually fast pace make me wonder if she's perhaps controlling them. If she was, I wouldn't be surprised. "We stand upon the precipice of change," she says. "The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment. And when it comes, do not hesitate to leap." The last word rolls off her tongue as if it's a suggestive warning as she faces us again. Her gold eyes look glazed over, as if her line of sight is lost in another time. "It is only when you fall that you learn whether your can_ fly_."

Hawke shifts his weight onto one foot. "What should I do?" he inquires.

"Do what I do: become a dragon." She laughs. "You can never be a dragon." Her gaze narrows in on Merrill. "As for you child, step carefully. No path is darker than when your eyes are shut."

"Ma serannas, Asha'belannar," she responds and slightly bows her head.

Appearing content with her response, Flemeth shifts toward the outlook again. "Now the time has come for me to leave. You have my thanks… and my sympathy."

Before I can ask what she means, Flemeth glows a bright gold. The light flashes brilliantly, clouding my vision and forcing me to close my eyes. When it fades and I can finally see again, Flemeth has shifted into a purple dragon and is already flying through the sky—once again leaving me with more questions than answers.


End file.
